Blood Tithe
by Shadoobie
Summary: Widow or Warrior, Master or Slave, everyone must give. Follow the fates of those who have yet to pay the price. Contains OCs and OC/cannon pairings. M for explicit adult themes. NOT FEMSLASH
1. Prologue

**Blood Tithe**

**Prologue**

A hundred feet. Just another hundred feet through the tight, cramped earth that almost squeezed the very air out of him. Just a hundred more feet. He crawled through the filth, just able to fit into the tunnel that would eventually take him to the surface. Earth was crushed beneath his fingernails as he pulled himself along, his mouth and eyes screwed shut and his legs pushing him steadily upward. Sweat was rippling down his body, mixing the soil into smeared streaks of mud that began to cake in his hair. The stagnant air was beginning to feel cool and fresh, he was almost there.

The sweat began to cool and the mud started to dry as he poked his head out of the hole, opening his eyes and seeing the darkness of night. He took a deep breath through his nose, a cool shock that started in his lungs and rippled through him. He looked up and saw the innumerable stars, his expression one of renewed wonder.

But there was no time for pause. He could hear the dogs.

Naked he ran down a slope of loose earth, mindful of the dozens of other burrows like the one he just crawled out of. He tumbled several times, thankful not to trip on a hole and possible break his legs. He reached the bottom and didn't stop, sprinting across the grasslands as the barking echoed louder behind him. His heart was pounding, the adrenaline addictive in his blood. He couldn't stop, he had gotten so far, if he could just reach the falls...

The sound of running water was steadily overwhelming that of the dogs, giving him a modicum of confidence that he would succeed. He stumbled again, landing face first into the icy river as his stomach slapped onto the rocky bank. The pain was short lived, it had to be, he had to keep running. He waded out into the river and headed downstream with the formidable current. It was becoming deeper as he progressed, the edge of the falls only some yards ahead.

The dogs weren't far off now.

He could hear the crashing of the falls. He took a deep breath and held his nose before he let the current take him away. It was a twenty foot drop.

I will survive, he thought. I _must_ survive.

He felt the riverbed disappear and gravity shove him downward. His heart was still racing as he struck the pool below, the water there deep enough so he wouldn't break his legs. If that had been the case, those in pursuit of him would simply kill him, not bothering to take him back.

The flow carried him further down, towards a second terrace of the falls, this one higher than the first. It was almost fifty feet. Again he convinced himself quietly of his instinct to live. He had to, he'd gotten this far already. He was so close!

He braced himself once more for the impending drop. He prayed that water was deep enough, or, at the very least, that his death would be quick.

Fifty feet straight down.

_SPLASH_

The impact was hard against his back, making a loud slap echo through the ravine the river had made. It stung terribly, his eyes clamped shut and his breath threatened to let itself go before his head was above the water again. When he felt cold air against his face he quietly exhaled, his face still scrunching from the burning tightness in his back.

He was thankful for the darkness, not wishing to see what he could feel all around him. Normally there were stones at the bottom of falls, but not here, not in this terrible place. There bones and the half decaying bodies of helpless souls that had died and were discarded. He didn't want to see, he didn't need to. His simply kept swimming, blind until he felt the pull of the river again.

With his body just peeping above the waterline he let the river carry him on, helping himself along by pulling on the stones and debris embedded in the muddy muck at the bottom. He drifted for miles, through the grasslands and to its southern border, until he could no longer hear the dogs. The barking quickly became a distant memory.

Now he was tired, weary with his legs weak and ready to give as he pulled himself from the water. He struggled for breath, his chest rising and falling in sharp succession. He lay on the bank, his back to the grass and his limbs spread out. He ran his fingers over the silky soft provender, reveling in the feel of it. The air was clean and crisp, brand new.

Free. Finally free.

Again he looked up at the stars amazed, pulling stray strands of wet hair from his face.

That wonder turned to startled curiosity. Something was happening to the south, something in the sky.

He turned onto his hands and knees and looked, his gaze going over the stretch of forest a mile away and to the red glow. At first he couldn't believe his own eyes, but...

By the gods...Cocoon was falling.

Cocoon had been ripped from its lofty perch and was now plummeting towards Gran Pulse in all its vindictive grandeur, a pit of vipers ablaze as it fell further and further towards its sister planet below.

Within the darkened center of Cocoon was a glimmer of light, and from it came the horror known as Ragnarok. Mighty and terrible, its bellowing roar cut the sky. It leaped through the gaping fracture in Cocoon's shell, climbed to the lowest point, and then threw itself downward. Below a lake of molten rock bubbled and churned, and then up it came as Ragnarok struck the surface. In a matter of only a few seconds, barely even a minute, Cocoon was seized. A few hundred feet from impact it stopped, cradled in a crystal nest. The sun began to rise, rays of light striking the colossal pillar that held the usurped moon steady.

In the wilds beneath the pillar gathered those children of Cocoon now without a home, without the Fal'Cie to guide them. Alongside the liberated L'Cie they would have to find a new way, a new path, how to survive in this world left to them through the sacrifice of the two L'Cie now resting at the very core of the crystal pillar.

It would take a miracle.

A miracle they would have to make for themselves.

Author's Note: Very short prologue, but I wasn't going for something long and ornate. I wanted to set the time and place, and introduce one of the many coming exclusive characters. Much like "Forgotten", my FF8 fiction, I'm doing this strictly for my own pleasure. If you enjoy it, let me know, if not, keep it to yourself. Flames will be promptly deleted. I'm writing this for my own satisfaction, because I love it, and I hated how XIII ended. Just forewarning, no Fanille or pairings that fall under that category. I have nothing against them, it's just not what I want. With all that being said, enjoy or GTFO.


	2. Chapter I

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter One**

Lightning shivered as she woke, her feet poking out from beneath her blanket and exposed to the chilled air. Even with thick wool socks it was cold. She drew her legs up quickly, curling tight and yanking the blanket over her head to trap the warmth. Only seconds passed before she was asleep again and remained in that same position, a lump with no limbs, for the next solid hour. When she couldn't stand to lie down any longer there was a loud snort as she sat up, still swaddled in the thick comforter.

She poked out her head, hair mussed and her eyes open only so much. It was just now sunrise, she could see the early light coming through the window and striking the floor. With a quiet yawn she could see her breath come out of her mouth as mist. Damn, it was still so cold, and the worst of the winter had yet to roll through. The seasons on Gran Pulse could be fierce and unforgiving, a lesson Lightning and all the others were forced to learn very quickly.

She put her feet to the floor and stretched, listening to her joints popping and the creaking of the cot's metal frame. Then she stood to go about her usual morning routine of bathing, dressing, and eating. Not necessarily in the order, mind you.

Lightning's living space wasn't exactly what you would call spacious. For the last eight years she had been part of the budding colony on Gran Pulse, living out of a military issue temporary dwelling; a metallic dome of what could, by all rights, be called a tent. Still, it was insulated, easy to put up, and even easier to tear down if need be. It was powered by a battery that was consistently being charged by the collection of solar panels on the outside. At least it kept the place warm and the toaster worked. So long as she had the toaster, life was tolerable.

To fend of the chilling winds that were bound to be tossing about today, Lightning buttoned up a pair of pants with a thick layer of wool sewn into the fabric. She then zipped up her coat, secured her gunblade in its usual place, and headed out the door.

Sweet Jesus it was cold. The sky was gray with clouds, an omen to yet more snow surely on the way. Lightning turned up the collar on her jacket as she walked between the other dwellings, the snow giving deep under her boots and a sharp wind whistling around her. There was no surprise in not seeing any children out in this winter wonderland. Yes, some were living here, but they wouldn't dare go out. Not all the predators migrated with the prey when the seasons changed.

Life in the colony had been tough, no buts about it. No one had expected it to be easy, but it wasn't until that first winter they realized what kind of a hell this could be. Ten colonists died that year, all within a month. Illness and freezing temperatures were common companions that everyone still regarded as dangerous. It was better now, but not by much. Perhaps it would have been better had they not been stranded down here, cut off from Cocoon until someone could figure out how to get communications and airships working again.

Without the Fal'Cie, many things within Cocoon simply stopped working. It took weeks for the finest engineers available just to get water running again. With such necessities as that on top priority, you can imagine the waiting period for transportation.

But, as I said, it got better. Now small aircraft were regularly coming and going between the colony and Cocoon, exchanging supplies and people. The long term goal was to, in time, make a complete exodus from Cocoon to Pulse. The colony, though small, was vital to that goal. If they could succeed, who's to say any other couldn't? However, these damnable cold spells were enough to make anyone turn tail and run.

PSICOM and the Guardian Corps had equal share in the administrative and managerial duties of the colony, conducting such obligations from the Resource Center, which was where Lightning was headed. It was a daily ritual, checking in at the center for gossip and anything else that might have come up in the last twenty four hours, almost everyone did it. Although there was more to it for her than that.

Shortly after the colony began, attacks from the local wildlife increased in frequency. For the most part it had been packs of Megistotherian and Amam, but that was more than enough to start thinning their already meager numbers. Something had to be done. Lightning, with the help of several Psicom officers, took it upon themselves to strike back at the threat. Within a few weeks word of attacks dwindled to only one or two every other week, but that escalated when winter settled in. Everything had to eat.

She went to the center to check on the bulletin board. Scouts posted new information there daily, be it a simple sketch of a recently explored area, or an extermination order. There wouldn't be much today, at least, not from the scouts.

Lightning kicked the snow from her shoes before stepping inside, glad to find it warm and dry as she closed the door behind her. Still, she kept her coat on, feeling as though she wasn't going to stay very long.

The Resource Center was yet another temporary dwelling the military had been using for some time, only slightly modified to be more stable and larger. It needed to be in order to handle the volume of traffic that went through it all day, every day. After all, the colonists came here for everything from rations to medicine to clothing, simple daily needs that could sometimes be construed as luxuries.

She walked passed the bulletin board, finding it empty, and went straight for the clerk at the desk. Bradley Mitchell was the colony quartermaster, a sensible fellow albeit kind of dorky. If the frames of his glasses were any thicker you could use them for hockey pucks, that is, if you didn't lose them in the snow. He seemed to have a chronic stuffy nose no matter the season and his hair was never tamed.

"Morning, Farron," he sniffed, turning in his chair away from his terminal.

"Brad," she nodded her head in reply. "Anything new?"

"Funny you should ask," he smirked. "I was just about to send for someone, but since you're here I'll ask you." his voice sounded to come from his sinuses and somewhat broken, like puberty stopped there. "Can you make a delivery for me?"

"What's the package?" it was something to do, although she had her own plans. Still, they could wait for the time being.

"Just some little things. I'll have to go get it, excuse me." he stepped from behind his desk and went through the door beside it into one of the center's storerooms. She tapped her foot until he returned. He set it on his desk, the contents producing a metallic rattle as he did so.

"Little?" she lifted an eyebrow at him. "What the hell's in here?"

"Mostly broken tools, actually." Bradley adjusted his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with one finger.

Lightning stared at the box, her arms crossed. "Don't you have someone else to do this?"

"She quit yesterday."

At first she was curious, now she was flat out suspicious. "What for?"

"She didn't say, just walked out." he sniffed again. "I'd imagine you'll find out when you deliver it...that is, if you're still up for it."

Lightning hated schlepping, it wasn't in her nature, but it wasn't like she had anything better to do. Even though she would rather be hunting some wild beast with the intent to stab it, she nodded.

"I'll do it. Where's it going?" she held back a shrug.

"Aggra's Pasture."

She blinked at him. "Someone actually lives out there? Since when?" How could she have missed something like that?

"As far as I know he's been out there since not too long before we started the colony. Anyway, hitch up a chocobo and get a move on, word has it a heavy snow is on its way in."

"I'd gathered as much. Thanks, Bradley." her gratitude was clearly feigned.

"Any time." and he waved goodbye, never mind that she didn't see it.

With package in hand Lightning circled the center to the chocobo stables. She wasn't too picky about which bird to ride so long as it was even tempered, which nearly all of them were. The attending keeper helped her secure the package into a leather satchel that rested around the chocobo's neck. With a nod of thanks she led the bird out of the stable and then pulled herself onto its back, nestling behind the fleshy lump just below the back of its long neck. With a gentle kick to the ribs the bird sauntered forward.

Lightning kept the chocobo at a steady, lively pace. She wanted to get this done and over with. Out of curiosity she twisted around and checked the horizon behind her, finding it completely grayed out, unable to see the soaring cliffs and crags due to snowfall. She had a few hours before it would hit this area, at least that is what she was hoping. Just to be safe she gave the chocobo another spurring kick.

The Archylte Steppe was near empty with the exception of several towering Long Gui, the giants going about their usual wandering oblivious to anything going on in their shadow. Thankfully there weren't any of the creatures in her path, as going around them would only waste time. Lord knows she wasn't in the mood to be squashed either. Still, with very little trouble aside from a bitter cold wind, she was able to navigate into the passage that led to Aggra's Pasture. The snow was almost to the chocobo's knees here, which was saying quite a lot. Lightning had no other choice but to take the pass slowly, she wasn't all too confident about the integrity of the massive icicles that had formed like lances along the ravine walls. Clumps of snow and loosened shards of ice sprinkled down, making her uneasy. The chocobo warbled his own displeasure and she pat the side of his neck to soothe him, not out of affection, but necessity. If he was too frightened, he would not move, and she refused to be stranded out here and forced to walk.

With no small amount of tough love and patience she encouraged the chocobo up the snowy terrace to the pasture. She looked around to see more snow and no sign of anyone living up here as she had expected. But then she looked again. All around her were perfectly shaped oval drifts of snow no more than two feet tall...and they were moving. The chocobo shied a little as one by his leg shifted and made a noise.

_Baaaaah_.

The pile of white shivered, fresh powder falling off and revealing the pitch colored face of a large ewe. It looked up at her and bleated again before waddling away. Lightning snapped her head up at the sound of excited barking...at least she thought it was barking. Through the deep snow came this large, black and white shape, yipping and bounding. Its large paws struck the ground with heavy thumps, kicking up the snow in surging waves.

Lightning reacted at the sight of the Megistotherian charging towards her, the chocobo shrieking and staggering back as she drew her gunblade. Ready for a fight, Lightning was rather confused when the beast suddenly stopped, sitting on its behind and staring up at her as if there was something stuck on her face, its furry head tilted to the side. Its red and yellow eyes were curious, not menacing or hungry, and its teeth were hidden behind its lips, which was certainly _not_ typical behavior for his species. Normally all you ever saw of these things was their teeth.

Before she could do anything, the animal's ears pricked at the sound of a high pitched whistle, immediately turning around and dashing in the direction it had come. More lumps started moving as well, more sheep appearing out the snow and waddling the same way as the...dog. What the hell was going on around here?

More whistles and strange clicks came from the man standing on the hill. He was a tall, imposing seeming man, covered head to toe against the cold, and she could only make out his eyes and a few strands of dark colored hair. As the...dog approached him, he snapped his fingers and it went running off in another direction. He then looked down to the gathering sheep, pushing some of them along with a bump on the rump with his boot. Did he even realize she was there?

The initial confusion over with and the gunblade back in its carrier, Lightning dismounted and led the chocobo by the long feathery tresses hanging down from its head. The snow here was shin deep, some of it getting down in her boots and making her cringe. She hated wet socks, damn near enough to ruin the entire day. Still she trudged on, trying to ignore it and mindful not to step on any sheep still in hiding.

The man looked to be about six feet tall, maybe taller, and was broad in the shoulders. His coat was made from sheepskin with the fleece still attached and turned onto the inside, it reached down to below his knees. A cloth sash kept the coat closed, and from it hung a shortened shepherd's hook. She couldn't see his boots for the snow. Most of his face was covered by a scarf while the rest was in the shadow of the hood of his cloak. It only covered one shoulder, the left one. He didn't acknowledge Lightning's presence and went quietly about the job of digging out his sheep.

"I've got a package for you from the center."

He stopped and half turned towards her, taking a moment to look her over, seeming unimpressed at her appearance. He didn't say a word.

Thinking it would help things along she retrieved the box from the satchel around the chocobo's neck, handing it to him. He took it in his large gloved hand and stared at it, maybe expecting something else. His steely gray eyes shifted onto her again, his brow tight. One eyebrow was broken by a jagged scar stretching from the flat of his forehead to just shy of his left eye. He turned away and started walking, whistling several swift tones to his dog who came running to his side. And she just stood there, her mind racing to try and process all of this in a way she could understand. With all honesty she couldn't say she had ever met someone who acted like that, and it was only out of curiosity that she followed him, shadowing his tracks to keep any more snow from getting in her boots. Man had big feet.

A house was nestled along the earthen barrier surrounding the pasture, a longhouse with a rounded roof and a roughly hewn facade of wood with the bark still on it. It was half buried in snow, just enough of it cleared away to allow entry and to keep the roof from caving in. Its darkened coloration and rough edges were stark contrasts to the soft whiteness of the landscape. There were chocobos within a fence beside the house, several of them nestled together in an open stable atop a stash of straw. The skeletons of a dozen trees arranged in rows stood a ways off, dormant for the season.

The man went into the house, leaving the door wide open. With a command for the bird to stay, Lightning let go of the chocobo and followed him. She took one step across the threshold and paused, looking around. It was rather dark, the few windows in the home blocked by snow, but it was warm. The floor was compacted dirt covered in various rugs that seemed out of place with everything else. They looked manufactured. There wasn't much else to see; a table with one chair, a bed that didn't appear to have ever been slept in, and a two-seat sofa in front of the hearth that was now dark and quiet. A variety of tools, hammers and chisels mostly, as well as stray tufts of wool were strewn about the floor.

The man stood at his table, the package now open with him fishing through the contents. There was another box beside him, a larger one sloppily sealed with a stretch of twine. Lightning flinched and turned when she felt something warm and wet against her hand. There was the dog, sitting on his butt and staring at her again, like he was waiting for something to happen. She just stared back, still unable to think this thing wasn't about to bite her. This was also when she noticed how unnaturally small he was for his species. Normally Megistotherians were the size of a vehicle, this one was perhaps half that.

He appeared in front of her now with the larger package in his hand, gesturing for her to take it. When she did he stepped around and went back outside, still without a single word and with the dog in his shadow. Lightning did the same, shutting the door behind her.

"You want me to take this back with me?" she called to him as he continued to gather his flock. He didn't nod, he didn't reply or even make an attempt to. She could only guess that it was what he had intended. She frowned a little, frustrated, and then shook her head as she mounted the chocobo once again. She laid the new box in her lap, holding tight to it with one hand as she rode out of the pasture.

The man watched her go, the scrunched tightness around his eyes perhaps caused by curiosity. He didn't know what to make of her right away, which was unusual. Normally those boobs from the Resource Center were easy to read, but not this one. He didn't much care for her at the moment because she'd raised a hand against Gurthang, but he was quick to look passed that as the dog took so kindly to her. Most of the time he would bark his head off and stalk any visitor that would come up here.

Why was he behaving so strange?

He pondered it while he herded his sheep into the fence, counting each one in his head up to thirty, which was the flock's current size. He closed the gate, made sure it would stay, and then went back inside. He snapped his fingers at Gurthang and gave a command that only the dog knew. The animal went beside the hearth and grabbed a log in his teeth, laying it in the fireplace. He did this several times before his master came to start a fire. After the wood ignited, the man took off his winter clothing, Gurthang sitting on the carpet in front of the sofa as if waiting.

He tossed his coat, scarf, trousers, and cloak onto the bed, now only wearing a loin cloth. He left his boots until he sat on the sofa. Gurthang was still there, excited when his master finally gave him permission to get on the couch. Gurthang put his head in his master's lap, happy as his tail wagged.

He stroked Gurthang's fur with his right hand, his only hand. His entire left arm was missing, had been for some time now, and all that remained was a knobby stump covered in thick scar tissue. Otherwise he was a fairly typical man in his late thirties, broad chested and with an uneven mass of thick hair on his head and face that was somehow both blonde and brown. A noticeable scar ran across his left cheek, and another was the remnant of a tiny nick on his top lip, just visible beneath his beard. The bridge of his nose was flat, like it had been crushed at some point, and there were noticeable frown lines around his dusky eyes.

He gave Gurthang another command, the dog jumping down and running about the house to retrieve what his master asked for. He brought back his pipe, carrying it gently in his jaws and dropping it into his owner's hand. He reached between the cushions of the sofa for the matches and tobacco, holding the pipe in his teeth in order to light it. He would often sit like this, sometimes for hours, smoking with Gurthang at his side. But that was when he didn't have anything important to do, which wasn't the case at the moment. He needed to get started on what the center had sent him...but it could wait until after a short nap.

Lightning made it back to the center just as snow was beginning to fall, thanking her lucky stars as she stabled the chocobo and went inside.

"Ah, hail the conquering hero," Bradley smiled, his crooked teeth showing. "Thanks very much," and he took the box from her and set it behind his desk. His smile flattened when he saw the look on her face. "What's wrong, Farron?"

"Who is that guy?"

"Dunno. Everyone just calls him Shepherd, it's what he does. Did he say something nasty?"

"He didn't say _anything_." she appeared to be rather perplexed about it. "Where's he from?"

"Don't know that either. Needless to say he doesn't talk all that much. Still, if it wasn't for him this colony wouldn't be where it is."

"What do you mean?" Lightning crossed her arms, one eyebrow cocked up.

"Those pants your wearing? He supplied us with the wool. Probably wouldn't have gotten through our first winter without him. Not to mention he raised all the chocobos we have, and he repairs almost everything that breaks around here. Does it for nearly nothing."

"You're kidding. How did you manage that if the man won't talk?"

"Well, this started before I was stationed here, so I honestly couldn't tell you. Still, everyone else who has delivered to him said almost the same thing you did, but it changed. Maybe he just needs to warm up to you."

"Not likely; that man had all the social grace and charm of an Ochu."

"Sounds like someone else I know." he snickered while peering over the rim of his glasses.

"Stuff it." she sniffed. "When's the next airship due?"

"It's on its way now," Bradley sighed, still grinning. "It'll probably be the last one for the day seeing as the weather is about to hit the shitter. Mind if I ask why? Checking on little sister?"

Lightning nodded.

"How is she, by the way?"

"No news is good news, I suppose."

"I know, I know," he shook his head. "We've been trying our damnedest to keep postage running, but I suppose some things just can't be done. Are you excited?"

"I guess so. Won't know for sure until it happens, right?"

"Wouldn't know, I'm an only child. Still, be sure to tell her I said hello."

"You got it."

Then the center began to tremble with the roar of airship engines as the craft touched down outside.

_(–)_

The snow followed the airship back to Cocoon, the flurries changing into full flakes as it landed. Lightning shook her head as she disembarked, getting the distinct feeling that she would have to stay here until the storm rolled through. Not that it would be so bad, just that it wasn't something she felt like doing. There were people down there that needed her, and she wouldn't do them any good stuck up here. On the other hand, Serah was family and, as always, her top priority.

Peering through the accumulation she spotted Snow on the edge of the landing area, waving his arms like an idiot to garner her attention. You could say he hadn't changed much at all over the last eight years, the only difference being that his hair had grown out a bit, enough to demand the need to be tied back in a pony tail.

"We were worried you wouldn't make it, sis," Snow opened his arms, ready for a hug, but she never stepped close enough. "It's good to see you."

"You're awfully happy." more so than usual, which was quite frightening really. "Where's Serah?"

Snow rubbed the back of his head and laughed as they began walking, his cheeks reddened. "She had a doctor's appointment this morning."

"Is everything all right?" Lightning felt a pang of unease.

"Oh yeah, everything's great. Just a regular check-up is all."

Lightning silently released her bated breath. "So...how much longer?"

"Doc says maybe three months, give or take a week." he rubbed his head and laughed again, making her wonder if he'd had any caffeine today. In even if he had, she could understand why he was so excited. A little at least.

Snow and Serah had been married for four years now, and it seemed that since the honeymoon they were trying their damnedest to have children. Up until now nothing had happened, but you certainly couldn't blame either one for not giving their best effort. Sure, thinking of that made Lightning kind of sick, but it was the truth. She could remember when Serah first told them she was pregnant, thankfully they were outside at the time as Snow started to do back flips until he fell on his backside. Lightning had never seen a man so happy in her life.

Of course Lightning was glad for them, but she couldn't really understand the reason why. I mean, it was her _little sister_ having a baby...she couldn't help but to feel strange about that. From her point of view it was a baby having a baby. Yeah, irrational, I know. Then her more sensible self came into the equation, wondering if now would be the best time. Cocoon was, by all rights, only so functional after its fall. Nothing was certain and the stability of anything was shady at best. Would bringing a child into this world at such a fragile point in time be wise? Still, in any case, it wasn't her choice. Maybe after the child was delivered she would better understand why everyone was so excited over it.

It was only a mile or so to the hospital, distance enough to allow the snow to start sticking on the pavement.

"How are things going down there, anyhow?" Snow chanced to ask as they turned a corner.

"Day to day, really. It's the best we can do during the winter. Not much more than that."

"Life in the wild Pulsian frontier not as exciting as you hoped?"

"No, I just hate the cold." and she shivered. "I miss the sunshine."

"Tell me about it. Well, at least it's not permanent, right?"

True, but four months still felt like forever, and with three yet to go it seemed even longer. "Hope you won't mind if I have to stay a day or two."

"Of course not," Snow patted her shoulder. "Hell, by all rights it's still your house."

Lightning nodded. When she decided to help establish the colony, Lightning gifted the newlywed couple the house, knowing they had more use for it. She wouldn't be around to live in it anyhow.

The two of them continued the small talk as they waited in the hospital lobby, perhaps half an hour passing before Serah appeared. Her face lit up at the sight of her older sister.

"You made it!" Serah opened her arms and was smiling from ear to ear.

This time Lightning accepted the gesture and hugged her sister, mindful of her swollen belly. She was smiling a little as she looked Serah over, proud of the fine young lady she'd grown into. Still, it was so odd seeing her pregnant.

"I missed you," Serah squeezed her about the shoulders.

"I know, me too."

"What did the doctor say?" Snow looked anxious, peering over Lightning's shoulder.

"Everything's fine, but my blood pressure is a little high." she said it like it was nothing, all the while Snow paled. "Snow, it's okay, I promise. He said it was normal."

He still didn't like the sound of it. "What about the baby?"

"Well," she paused as if to pull him along. "We're having a girl."

"Yeah? That's fantastic!" Snow took her up in his arms and held her tight. "That's so wonderful!"

Lightning was convinced he was going to start crying. She stood back and watched as her brother-in-law gushed like a hysterical old woman. It was actually kind of cute and it forced Lightning to admit that Snow was, all in all, a nice guy. He'd kept his promise to make Serah happy so far, so she didn't have the room to say otherwise.

The weather only worsened as the three of them drew closer to home. It was nearly a complete white out when they got indoors.

"Why don't you ladies get comfortable and I'll get started on dinner," Snow hung up his coat and headed through the den and into the kitchen.

"Do I have time to write my will?" Lightning sounded serious, but she was smiling on the inside.

"Snow's gotten better." Serah said in his defense, nodding with all sincerity. "Not by much, but still better."

"I guess it's progress." Lightning shook her head, grinning as she pulled off her snow covered boots.

Serah giggled and the two of them went to sit on the sofa where they started catching up while ignoring the disheartening crashes from the kitchen.

"Looks like the two of you are doing all right."

"I guess so. We're just taking it one step at a time." Serah seemed content with the fact.

"Me too." she nodded. "Glad to see he's taking care of you."

"As if you expected him not to," Serah cocked up a knowing eyebrow. "Can't you give him a little more credit?"

"I'm his in-law, it's against my principles."

Serah rolled her eyes, still smiling. "You're so full of shit."

Lightning paused, taken aback by what her little sister just said. Not so much that she called her bluff, but the choice of words. Out of sheer habit she almost corrected Serah, but quickly reigned it in. Serah was old enough and Lightning wasn't her mother.

"Maybe so," she said instead. "But at least I'm consistent."

"I'll give you that. So how are things going for you?"

"Same as always." the answer sounded rehearsed. "This winter's been pretty bad though. Aside from that it's been quiet."

"Still living alone?"

"And if I am?" what on earth did it matter?

"Just curious. You have any friends in the colony?"

"Define friend."

Serah laughed, finding that sort of answer to be almost expected if not typical.

"What's so funny?"

"It's just...I worry about you, Light, really. It drives me crazy sometimes to think you're down there by yourself."

"I'm a big girl, Serah. Let _me_ worry about me, okay?" Lightning shook her head. It was unnecessary for Serah to fret over her. Clearly she wasn't thinking about her blood pressure. "I'm perfectly safe."

"That's not what I worry about."

Before she could answer, Lightning turned towards the feeling of something against her arm. She flinched at the sight what was perched beside her.

"The hell is that?" she looked at it sideways.

"That's Pickles."

The cat looked older than dirt, its black fur uneven and splotched with faded and inconsistent orange spots. It was missing its left eye and a chunk out of one ear. All of its whiskers were crooked, and its tail was bent near the balding tip. By the looks of it the animal had extra toes and a runny nose.

"Where on earth did you get it?"

"He just wandered to the door one day. I couldn't help but take him in." Serah seemed to adore the decrepit creature. "Isn't he cute?"

"Cute isn't the word I would use,"

Pickles meowed, sounding like a clogged toilet, making Lightning cringe. It then crawled into her lap, its forepaws finding their way onto her chest so it could put its nose in her face.

She pushed it away. "Jesus, he smells!"

"Yeah, his breath is a little rank."

"You think his breath is bad, just wait 'til he farts." Snow came into the den, leaning over the back of the couch. "That thing is dead inside."

"Don't be mean," Serah scolded him. "He's just old."

"He should've died a month ago." Snow shook his head. "I think he's a zombie."

"Oh stop, you're just jealous that he gives me more attention than you."

"He can keep it!" Snow threw up his hands. "I just wish he'd stop hacking in my shoes." and then he went back into the kitchen. Dinner would be ready in just a few minutes anyway.

Lightning allowed Pickles to sit in her lap so long as he didn't get in her face again. The thing smelled like burned rubber and raw sewage, two things enough to gag a maggot. It was surprising she found the stomach to eat dinner while the cat circled her feet, his stench lingering. Why he was so insistent on being around her was beyond explanation. Maybe she was an animal person and didn't know it?

The three of them were up late that night, still talking long after they had finished their meal. When the decision to go to bed became unanimous, Snow gathered the soiled dishes into the sink. He then proceeded to literally carry his wife to bed, both of them wishing Lightning good night before disappearing into their room.

Lightning laughed a little as she stood up, turning out all the lights in turn and thinking the couch would be good enough for the night. Snow really was a devoted husband, so loving and attentive to her sister. Sure, she gave him a lot of shit simply because he was who he was, but deep down she was grateful for him. Though she would never openly admit it, Serah was in the best hands she could be.

Lightning used the quilt on the back of the couch to cover herself, a throw pillow beneath her head. She lay awake for a short wile, her eyes open in the darkness as she felt the weight of the cat settling on her hip. Everything would be fine if Pickles stayed away from her face.

_Maybe I should get a cat..._ she thought briefly then disregarded it. She didn't like the idea of someday becoming the old lady with all the cats, not in the least. _Or a dog..._

She closed her eyes and let her mind wonder back to the man at the pasture, his dog so miraculously obedient. Yeah, maybe a dog...

What the hell was she going on about? She didn't need pet, she was fine enough on her own. By now she was used to it and well adjusted. Last thing she need was a drooling, barking, sniffing fur ball. She wasn't lonely, just a spinster. Besides, she had a job to keep her busy, there wasn't time for pets or much of anything else.

Although, strangely enough, she had trouble sleeping due to her thoughts dwelling on the shepherd.

All the while Pickles had snot bubbles popping out of nose as he wheezed in his sleep.

Below Cocoon, at the base of its cradle and in the darkness, something was going on and had been doing so for the past year with all of Pulse none the wiser. Even as the snow came tumbling down there were those working by torchlight towards some clandestine purpose. You wouldn't see them or evidence of their presence on the morning, it was how they operated. They only worked at night, thus going unseen.

Author's Note: The first few chapters of mostly everything I do is the hardest part. I know the cohesion of this piece isn't entirely evident, I guess I'm just having a little trouble getting a clear picture in my head. Hopefully that will improve. Like I said, chances are this won't be long, but I would imagine it will get better once I get the plot moving; most likely sooner than I think. Also, on another note, this is also MTG themed, just so you know.


	3. Chapter II

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Two**

Shepherd was a very self sufficient fellow, able to do nearly everything without assistance. He cooked for himself, cleaned, fed the livestock, and could do all the sewing in spite of having only one arm. Anything he couldn't do on his own, he had Gurthang to help him. He had raised the dog from a pup to understand a myriad of commands and whistles, each one unique and meant for a specific task. Most of the whistles were for herding the animals, while word commands were for other chores, such as welding or plowing. Shepherd had crafted many of his tools to facilitate for Gurthang, crafting wooden or leather bound handles on them so the dog could take them easily in his mouth. Such as right now.

Shepherd moved his forgery indoors for the winter, allowing the heat from it to warm the house instead of burning the extra wood in the hearth. The anvil was sturdy although lighter by most standards, but that made it easier to move from place to place. It was outfitted with a lever on one side, which Gurthang had a firm grip on with his teeth, that could be pushed back and forth. That would move a right angled, detachable extension that could hold a piece of metal of almost any size, able to hold it fast with a tightened screw. Shepherd could just make a clicking sound and Gurthang would pull the lever, flipping over whatever he was working on.

Being snowed in for the last three days gave him plenty of spare time once he had seen to the animals' daily needs. It was a prime opportunity to finish a project he had been putting off for a while now, being rather busy with requisitions from the Resource Center. With a hammer in his hand he pounded away at the red hot steel lying on the anvil. It relented under the force, becoming the proper shape he needed. Once it was the right dimensions he removed the arm from the handle, dipping the still glowing metal into the bucket of water on the floor beside him. Bubbles hissed and popped out of the water, snuffing the heat and darkening the metal to its original color. He looked it over, nodding his head in satisfaction.

He took the newly fashioned piece across the room, Gurthang in tow. Beside the large stone grinding wheel was the wooden frame of what looked to be a dog sled. The metal would fit to the runners, adding more strength and stability once put in place. A total of twelve metal braces had been fitted to the runners with wooden pegs and an adhesive he made from sheep hooves to seal it all together, wrapping them in leather strips so they would set overnight.

He stepped back to look at what he'd made, seeming proud. He wasn't often a very happy, self satisfied man, but now was one of the few moments where he was. Gurthang sat next to his master, looking up at him, panting and his tongue hanging out. Shepherd pat his head, perhaps a gesture of gratitude for his help. He thought to try it out tomorrow, everything would be set and ready by then.

Gurthang started barking at the rumble of an airship passing over the pasture, undoubtedly coming from Cocoon. He hated that noise, so loud and disruptive, and how it made Gurthang scratch at the door to be let out so he could chase after it. The least those damnable pilots could do was not fly over him, they had a whole sky to themselves for pity's sake. He could hear the sheep and chocobos fussing as well from within their enclosed shelter, a cave carved into the earthen barrier around the pasture, a wooden door keeping it closed. It was right beside the house, so he couldn't exactly miss the commotion. He'd been meaning to talk to those folks about the airships, maybe now would be a good time. The sun was out and there was no chilling wind, so a walk to the center wouldn't be unpleasant. Besides, they still owed him for the last set of repairs.

_(–)_

Light woke in staggering increments as each of her senses came to one by one. She took a deep breath, noticing the cramp in the small of her back as she tried to turn onto her stomach. Something warm was curled around the back of her neck and she could hear something akin to a clogged toilet. She lifted the lid of one eye, twisting just so she could see the sleeping face of the cat, its nose running as it snored, little bubbles coming out of its nose. It smelled like a cesspool.

With a cringe and a groan she grabbed the animal by the scruff, ignoring its grinding whine of protest as she forced it to the floor. It tried to get back into her lap as she sat up. She pressed against its head to keep it from jumping and was successful, but also managed to get some snot on her hand. She gave Pickles back his generous gift, leaving the cat with a ridiculous cow lick atop his head as he skulked away. Lightning shook her head, not quite sure what to make of the creature.

Someone was brewing coffee, the bitter burning scent permeated the air. The kitchen light was on, otherwise the entire house was dark. Lightning stretched as she stood, making her way into the next room, seeing Snow at the stove in his pajamas. That is, if shorts and a tee shirt could constitute as proper pajamas.

"Mornin'," he greeted with a hushed tone. "Sleep okay?"

"Hmm,"

"Not up to words and sentences yet, huh?" he laughed a little. "You know, you could've slept in the spare bedroom."

Lightning grumbled again, raking her scalp with her nails as she sat at the dining table. The couch had been right there, not the extra dozen steps away like the bedroom. Besides, it probably wouldn't have saved her from the cat snot stain on her tank top, so it was a moot point.

"You like it black, right?" Snow asked as he turned away from the stove, a full mug in each hand. He sat down and pushed the cup towards her, taking her soft groan as a gesture of gratitude. He waited a few more minutes, gave her a chance to drink some before he tried once more at conversation.

Lightning felt a sharp, hot jolt go up her back as the brew eased down her throat. Gentlemen, start your engines.

"Thank you." she managed her first comprehensive sentence. "Serah still sleeping?"

"Yeah. She had a hard time settling in last night," he smiled with a little laugh, his eyes on the table. "Baby kept kicking."

Lighting forced herself to smile. "You both sound really excited."

"You bet." Snow nodded. "I mean, it feels like we were trying for so long...now it's finally happening. It's almost too good to be true."

She wanted to be happy for him, excited, but she was finding that to be a difficult thing to do. Instead she had a sense of wariness, maybe even dread. There was no explaining it, so she just shoved it down, hiding any possible reply behind another sip of coffee.

It was quiet for a moment, then, "I'm doing the best I know how with Serah."

Lightning arched her brows and looked at him, curious. "I didn't say anything about it."

"I just...I guess I feel like I need to assure you, you know? It sounds silly, yeah, but you're pretty damn scary. I just want to keep my ass out of the cross hairs."

"You're an idiot." she shook her head. "I've told you time and again that I trust you. Isn't that enough?"

"Well, yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. "But,"

"No buts," she raised a palm towards him to interrupt. "We've talked about this already and I don't want to hear another word. Change the subject." it was an old violin she was tired of playing, and Snow knew that. Why he had no confidence in her trust was beyond her.

Snow flinched, shrinking slightly back into his chair. "Okay, okay." he paused a moment to think and to get over the slight unease his sister-in-law's critical look caused him. "Serah's worried about you being by yourself down there."

"So she told me." Light took it with a grain of salt, having heard this once already.

"I am too."

"Oh please," She rolled her eyes. "Give me a break. I'm fine."

"So you're telling me you're completely copacetic with having no friends?"

"I have friends." she bit back, her eyes narrowed at him.

Snow smirked, his arms crossed in his disbelief. "What's their names?"

_Damn it all, just leave it alone._ "There's Bradley,"

"The one you referred to as 'that mousy dork'? Not much a of a friend by the sounds of it. Try again."  
>"I don't have to answer to you." she tipped her mug all the way back, forcing the last few diluted drops into her mouth so she wouldn't be expected to say any more.<p>

"Still, we're family, and we need to look out for you."

"You can't be serious." if anyone needed looking after, as far as Lightning was concerned, it was them. Just a couple of kids with a kid on the way. They would need a damn miracle. She didn't need anyone. "Just leave it be, Snow."

"And if I don't want to?"

"I'll change your mind." her aquamarine eyes settled on Snow and she watched him flinch again. Honestly, if this was how she was going to spend her time here, arguing and debating over nothing, she'd rather go back to the colony and freeze her ass off.

"Are you getting defensive about it because we're right?"

"Right about what?"

"You're lonely."

She laughed, her knuckles against her mouth to muffle the sound. "What do you take me for? I know you and I have never seen eye-to-eye, Snow, but I hoped you had a higher opinion of me than that."

"I mean no disrespect, honest. I'm just calling it as I see it. Serah too."

"You're both worrying over nothing." she crossed her arms and draped one leg across the other. "Can we drop it now?

"You're damn stubborn, you know that?" he shrugged. "Now I know where Serah gets it from."

"Like hell you do."

Neither Snow or Serah said another thing about it over the course of the next two days. By the third day of Lightning's visit the snow had melted, the streets and sky clear as a bell. Lightning yielded to her sister's demand to stay long enough for breakfast, but then insisted that she get on the move. She just couldn't stand to stay much longer. Maybe there was a sense of unfounded awkwardness that made her all the more eager to bug out.

The air outside was bitter cold and damp, the chill was like the edge of a knife as Lightning pulled up on the collar of her coat. Only a few minutes of walking was plenty of time for the tip of her nose and her cheeks to ache with a dull burn. She quickened her pace, biting her lip against the wind.

The airship platform was rather crowded this morning, stacks of crates full of supplies and scattered groups of people waiting to board. Many of them looked to be soldiers, probably time for the detail rotation, the others were unfamiliar. It was easy to disappear among them, not that she was trying. One by one they all filed onto the airship, stepping between other people and crates. The accommodations weren't exactly what you would call comfortable, but at least everyone had a place to sit.

The flight back to Pulse was short but turbulent. The craft rattled and shuttered, its passengers cringing and gasping in mild terror. The idea of a several ton machine plummeting a few hundred feet to the planet below was unnerving, even Lightning could attest to that. Sure, she'd thrown herself from great heights before, garnering nothing so much as flinch, but there was reason for that. Every risk she'd taken had always been for the benefit of another. Still, an airship crash wasn't her idea of a prime cause of death. She felt as though she had earned a little more dignity than that.

The airship jerked to a halt on the ground, and Lightning waited for the other passengers to disembark before stepping off the platform at the craft's rear. It was colder down here on Pulse, which she had no idea why all things considered, but it looked like some of the snow had melted here as well. Patches of earth, some with sprigs of still green grass peaking upward towards the sun. Maybe this winter wouldn't be so bad after all.

"I swear, I'm on this route for six months, and you never once say hello."

Lightning turned at the voice just behind her. Sazh stood there with his arms crossed, a hand at his chin as he shook his head. Immediately she could see his age, whiteness beginning to overtake the normally pitch colored hair at his temples. His facial hair was showing it too, unable to hide the lines that had creased around his mouth. Still, it was good to see him appear so well. He looked happier at least.

"You know I'm not exactly a social butterfly." she smiled a little. "How have you been?"

"All in all, okay; certainly ain't getting' any younger. Yourself?"

"Eh, it goes. You going to stay a while?"

"Don't have to leave for a couple of hours yet, I need to make sure all of this stuff gets where it's going." he tilted his head towards the crates being unloaded. "Til then I'm pretty much grounded."

"Don't sound so excited."

"Well, you know," he was trying to find an excuse. "Got things to do."

"Sure you do." although he was probably right, and it wasn't like she had all the time in the world to herself either. Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true. "It's no big deal. Good to see you, though."

"You too. Don't be such a stranger." he watched her walk away, noting how her age was starting to show as well. A dimness in her eyes maybe.

She wouldn't say yes or no to the demand, unsure if she would be able to keep it either way. Instead she turned away with a wave and started towards the Resource Center, mostly out of sheer habit. Besides, something was bound to have gone wrong while she was away. She couldn't help but wonder from time to time if this colony would manage long without her?

Lightning had expected the center to be busy, people coming and going as new arrivals. She pushed through them, heading for the bulletin board as usual. There was one slip of paper on it that she took the few brief moments to read. It was some sort of notice for volunteers; a expeditionary group was needed for a trip out to the crystal pillar. Something about suspicious activity. There was already a list of names beneath the descriptive paragraph, three or four, and a pen jabbed into the peg board beside it. Without much thought she decided to sign her name, if for no other reason than to give herself something to do.

What kind of activity could be considered suspicious? Who even posted this request? Bradley would know...

"Welcome back, Farron," Bradley mused over his papers as he watched her maneuver behind his desk. "Line starts over there." and he pointed.

"Very funny. What's that bulletin all about?"

"Heard a rumor about things going on around the base of the pillar, thought I'd make arrangements to have it checked out. You interested?"

"Already signed up."

"Like I needed to ask." he laughed as he punched a sheet of paper with a stamp. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, just curious." she shook her head. "Who brought it up?"

"Shepherd."

Lightning felt one of her eyebrows arch. "Seriously? Can't say I saw that coming."

"Tell me about it. He was here day before yesterday and told me about it. Didn't have anything concrete, just said he was concerned. I figured it wouldn't hurt to send someone, put the old fella at ease."

"Is he really that old?" he didn't look it when she'd seen him before. Then again...

"Haven't the slightest clue." he adjusted his glasses. "All I know is that he's older than me, and that makes him old."

"_I'm_ older than you, Bradley." she narrowed her eyes at him, all in good fun of course.

"I stand by what I said." he laughed, stamping another stack of papers. "Still, I suppose it's the least we can do considering I took work away from him."

"How did you manage that?"

"I put in a requisition with the home office for an engineer who can live within the colony, so," he paused, his voice feigning a guilty pain.

"Did he not take it well?"

Bradley swallowed. "Let's just say I was more than a little hesitant to give him the hatchets he asked for." he could still remember that chilling look he received.

Lightning considered it for a moment, wondering what anyone would need with a hatchet, much less more than one of them. The only trees in the area were the towering, fleshy palm-like trees that seemed to be good for nothing more than to act as perches for the flying beasts.

"So when is the new guy coming in?"

"Today, at least he should be. If he isn't, the home office is going to get a call."

"I'm sure they're terrified at the thought of that." she started around the desk again, eager to get back to her dwelling and settle down for a while. "Any more ships coming in today?"

"Not that I've heard, no. You that excited?" he knew she wasn't one to get excited about much of anything. If she did, he was certainly fooled.

"Just curious." she shook her head. "I'll leave you to it then, you look busy."

"Thanks for your concern." he laughed with a sort of shrug. "That group's meeting up later this afternoon, Farron."

"I'll be there." she waved to him over her shoulder, working her way outside.

Lightning took a few steps outside, aiming to at last return home, when she heard excited barking. Turning, she was a little surprised to see the tame Megistotherian weaving through the throngs of people to reach her, tongue hanging out and tail wagging. She didn't shy away, but she didn't kneel to greet the animal either, standing still as it came close. It reared on its hind legs and put its paws on her chest, tall enough to reach that high. She refused to let him lick her face, putting a hand on his nose and giving him a gentle push until he was back on all fours. She didn't know what was stranger about all this; the dog's behavior, or how everyone around seemed to find it normal. Was she really that far outside the loop around here?

"Where's your master?" she mused to herself, looking around with one hand atop the animal's head. The dog would start as if to leave, but then stop to turn and look at her as if expecting her to react in a particular way. Then he started whining as she continued to simply stand there, his head tilted to the side.

Her face scrunched a little, unable to believe the dog was trying to make her follow behind him. That was just silly, sounded like some cheesy plot device out of a run-of-the-mill TV show. She waited for a moment or two just to see if the animal serious, turns out he was. He sat right there, staring at her and whining until she started to walk. Then he was all yips and wagging again. Lightning felt absolutely ridiculous. Well, she thought briefly, at least this little detour would bring her closer to home, so she could afford to humor the pooch.

Shepherd hadn't noticed Gurthang slip out of his harness and away from the sled, he wasn't even aware of the dog barking as he ran off. He was preoccupied speaking to a colonist who had requested some wool, trying to decided a proper payment for the material. They eventually settled on a fresh hot meal and a few bones for Gurthang. He wouldn't have stayed so long if not for that. Shepherd couldn't say he was close to the family, not really, but he knew the wife well enough to be a welcome guest in their home. She had delivered to him before, and their daughter was cute as a button and sweet to boot, always wanting to hug him for some reason.

With all business concluded he returned to the sled to find Gurthang gone. He only needed to wait a moment before his companion reappeared, seeming not at all guilty that he'd left his post without his master's permission. He allowed Gurthang to put his paws on his belly, his tongue reaching for his face. He scolded the dog gently, smiling, not realizing who was watching and listening.

Lightning couldn't understand a word he said to the dog, his voice low and almost growling. She looked him over with genuine curiosity, finally able to see his face, the mess of hair surrounding his drawn, scarred features. She felt a mite of a shudder go up her back with his argent eyes settled on her. His smile flattened and his brow tightened at the sight of her.

"So what's going on at the pillar?" she chanced to ask. "Must be something serious for you to report it." Considering he almost never said a word otherwise.

Shepherd only gave grunt as he began to hitch Gurthang up again without so much else as a "hello" or a "fuck off". The dog crouched, easing his massive head through the leather straps and lifting his paws in turn until the harness was in its place. He took a hold of one strap and walked Gurthang along, eyes forward and disregarding.

His shoulder was hard against hers as he pushed passed, still silent. She recoiled, unsure how to react. What was his malfunction? If he had a problem, why not just come out and say it? Well, at least the dog liked her.

"Who was that?"

"Crazy local." she answered without much thought, turning to see who she was talking to. Just some kid with platinum hair, maybe twenty-something, dressed in dark brown and black winter clothes. He looked a bit thin. Wait a minute... "Hope?"

"Almost didn't recognize me, did you?" he smiled from ear to ear, green eyes shimmering.

With a swell of joy she put her arms around him, glad he reciprocated the gesture. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the new engineer." he seemed terribly proud to say. "Tried to get your attention at the center but you walked out."

"Sorry, I didn't see you." She looked him over. Damn had he grown up fast, he was even taller than her, still she couldn't help but see the little kid he used to be. "So you're here to stay then?"

"Yeah, for the next six months anyway. I'm on a rotation program." he nodded, adjusting the leather backpack on his shoulder. "Nice to see familiar face down here, though."

To be honest she felt the same but didn't say so. "You got a place to stay yet?"

"The guy at the desk said he'll have everything I need by tomorrow. You know how it goes with paper work and all that."

"Tell me about it." she rolled her eyes. "You can stay with me then."

"You have the room? I mean, I don't want to impose or anything...they got beds at the center."

"You'd rather stay there? It's fine with me," part of her hoped he wouldn't.

"No, no, if you're offering its okay." he shook his head, not wanting her to retract the opportunity. "In any case I was hoping we could catch up."

"I've got an errand this afternoon," she mentioned as they started walking, "but it shouldn't take but a few hours."

"Where to, can I come?"

She smiled at the child-like curiosity. "I don't know..."

"You're kidding right?" he laughed at her. "Seriously, Light, I have to shave every morning now, you don't have to look after me like a little kid."

She shook her head, feeling like she would never really accept him completely as an adult, no matter what. "I'm still going to, though."

"If you insist," he shrugged, though still smiling. He had always considered their relationship a somewhat brother/sister sort of thing, almost maternal even, never mind that brief stint where he had a crush on her in the most impure sense.

"I'll think about it." she said at last, thinking that answer would pacify him for the time being. "You couldn't have picked a worse time to come down here." a subject change was in order.

"How do you figure?"

"Winter just started and, I'm not going to bullshit you, it's nasty."

"That's what I've heard. Still, it was an opportunity and I took it." really it was that his father was getting clingy in his progressing years and he was looking for a chance to get out on his own.

Lightning nodded in agreement as she opened the door and let him inside before entering as well, shutting the door behind her. "It's not much, but it's home." and she switched on the only light.

Hope looked around, pulling his backpack off his shoulder and setting it down beside the door. "It's not bad. It's a roof over your head."

"Have a seat anywhere." she gestured with an indifferent hand. "Want some coffee?"

"Nah, makes me hyper."

Lightning paused for a second, her mind considering that in depth. The idea of Hope going a mile a minute made her want to laugh something fierce. To prevent that she tried to find something else to talk about.

"When did you get into engineering?" to be frank she never saw him to be a grease monkey. He had always appeared too frail for manual labor like that.

"A couple years ago," he answered casually as he sat at the small dinning table. "Found out I had a talent for it when I started taking stuff apart because I was bored. Got started helping with the repairs up on Cocoon and it just went from there." he laughed softly to himself thinking about how tweaked his dad would get finding pieces of things all over the house, the carpet and walls often smeared with grease.

"Surprise, surprise," she nodded with a smile, rummaging for something to sate her terrible case of the munchies. "I almost had you pegged for the military."

"I thought about it, actually," he rubbed the back of his neck, almost as if he were embarrassed about something. "I guess I just changed my mind."

"It happens." she didn't have high expectations for him to do it to begin with, but she had encouraged him all the same. Well, she thought, at least he was satisfied with what he doing. Couldn't ask for more than that.

"So what about this errand you were talking about?"

Lightning found some half stale crackers and went to sit at the table across from Hope. "Rumor has it there's some weird stuff going on at the crystal pillar." she paused, seeing his expression going from curious to engrossed. "They want us to investigate it, though I'm not even sure what we'll be looking for."

She watched as Hope's expression darkened a little, his eyes thinning and his brow seeming heavy. Lightning thought to ask what was bothering him but, all in all, decided against it. She had a feeling what it was.

It was quiet for a few moments, then his frown softened. "I'd really like to go along. I won't be any trouble."

"That's not what I'm worried about," she shook her head. "It's rough out there."

"I'm not scared." he leaned back in the chair, his arms crossed. "Considering some of the things we've been through together, this is nothing."

Part of her wanted to agree, but the other part was still feeling terribly motherly. "It was different then." They had magic, Eidolons, each other...they were L'Cie.

"Not all that much. Besides," he smirked, "even if you say no I'll probably go anyways."

He had her there. What right had she to tell him yes or no?

Lightning nodded. "True...fine, you can come. It'll most likely be dark by the time we get back, so dress warm."

"Without a doubt." he nodded, leaning over the table, his hands folded. "What kind of critters are roaming this time of year?"

"Big ones."

"'nough said." he laughed, standing up in one swift motion and retrieving his backpack, fishing through it for something as he came back to the table. "Get a look at these."

Lightning watched his hand as it came out of the bag. It was holding a ring of flattened steel that shimmered in the light, revealing its sharpened edge. She reached towards it, wanting a closer look as he relented to let her hold it. It was light but sturdy, it didn't wobble when she held it horizontal. She checked the edge against the light, finding it level.

"You make this yourself?"

"Yup, the pair." he held the twin. "Made a special holster for them, too."

Lightning handed the razor ring back to him, nodding in approval and with a hint of awe.

Holy shit, she thought briefly, he really has grown up.

_(–)_

Shepherd was agitated as he took off his coat and tossed it across the bed, his muscles tensed and his body hunching. Gurthang watched him, his head cocked to the side as his master grumbled and fussed about the room, looking for his pipe. With a whimper he sulked beneath the bed as if to hide, finding an old bone a holding it in his mouth as he lay down.

Shepherd found his pipe and practically threw himself onto the sofa, pulling a blanket across his lap instead of starting a fire. Once the tobacco was lit he puffed it frantically, almost angrily, and his brow was furrowed so tightly that the creases about his face looked an inch deep.

Why was Gurthang so fond of that woman? It boggled him, sometimes threatening to keep him awake at night, which wasn't a difficult thing to do, but that's beside the point. It was like the animal was going out of his way to get her affection. That simply didn't happen. And that wasn't the worst of it either, and neither was the murder of crows-something he hadn't seen in years-along the roof.

But it was her eyes.

They seemed to go right through him, to his very core, and expose it bare. It was startling, like there was no refuge from her scrutiny, which was the temperament of her gaze in regards to him. What was she expecting, what did she want from him? Those eyes were on the verge of haunting. But that wasn't the only thing bothering him...

Those eyes made him think, reminded him of something long gone but unforgettable.

His breathing slowed, the puffs of smoke becoming less frequent as he swallowed. With the pipe secure between his teeth he let his head fall into his open hand. He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening to the point of painful as his mind took him back. Emotions swelled and his fingers squeezed his temples.

Sounds and phantasmal shadows were all his memory could bear to reveal, but it was more than enough. There was no mystery, therefore no need to see or hear it as clearly, and it was always the same thing be he asleep or awake. The snap and crackle of roaring flames, the dancing daggers of crimson light, the screaming of crows in the dark...

Over and over again like it had been for the last sixteen years.

He wiped at the burning of tears in his eyes, his face twisting into a hard grimace. He shoved it down, like nasty medicine he stomached the pain until it stopped. He could feel his insides protesting, like the twist of a hot knife demanding he let it go for a change, but the discomfort went ignored. Once it faded Shepherd called to Gurthang, in need of his companion for nothing more than company. He welcomed the dog into his lap, petting him as usual.

Those eyes, he had realized to his immense dismay, reminded him of his wife. And with that came the recollection of an all consuming, insurmountable sorrow.

_(–)_

The sun was beginning to set as the expeditionary group drew close to the base of the pillar, the massive structure of immaculate crystal settled at the hem of a seemingly bottomless gorge. Refracted light danced across the ground and the sheer walls of the surrounding cliffs, a myriad of colors against remaining splotches of snow, a fleet of fractured rainbows. And Cocoon was the still looming shadow that appeared to stretch for miles, the crown of the crystalline tower.

There was six of them making their way down towards the roots of the pillar. They navigated the chocobos with care, mindful of how little traction the birds could get on the thin layer of crystal that had spread across the ground. It was slow and steady all the way down.

Lightning felt Hope's grip around her waist tighten when the chocobo started down, jerking as it slipped an inch or two. His gaze drifted upward, higher and higher towards the top, his expression a sort of bittersweet wonder. When the lot of them were close enough they dismounted, leading the chocobos by the reins the rest of the way.

It didn't appear at first that anything was out of the ordinary, and most of the others agreed. At first glance everything was normal as they spread out, covering the entire area, easily a mile wide, in a brief sweep. Nothing was standing out. But that didn't mean the end of it, sometimes the worst of things couldn't be seen anyhow. Just look at the plague...so to speak.

Lightning let her eyes scan across the ground, blinking at the bright reflection of the sun. The crystal was smooth and flawless as a baby's backside, completely unremarkable. Not a scratch or blemish to be beheld, not even a-

A crack.

A tiny split, a midget of a rupture. But it grew as she followed the imperfection, stretching until it gaped into a hole maybe an inch deep. There was dirt at the bottom. Something about it was unnatural considering it would take some serious power to punch a hole through this stuff, maybe even heavy machinery. There was no trace of such equipment of course. Lightning lifted her eyes to find even more of these pock marks, dotting several feet ahead, but looking more uniform, almost intentional. Initially she entertained to possibility of animal tracks, but came up short as to what animal could have done this and have feet so small. A Gui could do it, no doubt, but not one as diminished as these supposed "tracks" dictated.

If not that, than what?

"What did you find?" Hope came up beside her, his head down to chance a glimpse at what was garnering so much of her attention.

"Not sure," she started chewing on her thumbnail, watching him kneel down and take a closer look.

"Well," he began after a moment, "if I had to guess...I'd say someone cut it out." Hope stood back up, scratching his head. "I just can't wrap my head around as to how."

"Same here. Sure as hell can't be natural."

"A blind man would see that. What do you think?" Hope crossed his arms and looked at her.

In the end she hook her head. "You find anything else?"

"Not yet. I was going to take another look at the base." he lifted one eyebrow as if to ask her to come along. "Maybe you'll see something I didn't."

Still chewing on her thumb she followed, trying not to trip on the crack with her attention diverted.

Everyone was making their way back to the base of the pillar, looking just as puzzled. There were more pock marks, all over the place is small schools as far out as the rim of gorge on the far side. With bated breath they circled the foot of the pillar, glad to find it undisturbed. At the very least it appeared that way. It was starting to get dark as the six of them stood there, more or less, with their thumbs up their asses.

"Bugs the hell out of me." One of the other men said, his fingers in his beard. "Maybe we should have someone camp out overnight...keep an eye out for whatever is doing this."

"Did any of you pack for an all-nighter?" Lightning almost laughed.

"It's only one night." said another. "I think we can handle it. We'll report back in the morning."

"If that's what you want," Lightning shook her head. "You're sure?"

They seemed like it, encouraging them to go on home and that they had control of things. There wasn't much else to discuss, now all there was to do was wait.

Lightning hated waiting. Patience was most certainly not one of her virtues, and being idle made her want to shoot things.

"Almost like we came all the way out here for nothing." Light grumbled as she pulled herself astride the chocobo. "Chasing phantoms."

"I don't think so." Hope settled behind her. "Clearly something is going on here...and I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"Dunno yet," the chocobo turned to ascend the hill, Hope turning his head to glance back at the summit. "It just doesn't feel good, you know?" Something was odd. He noticed the air smelling faintly of copper in some places, but wasn't sure of what the cause could be. Perhaps there was an exposed deposit nearby?

"Maybe it's just me." he guessed with uncertainty, his brow tightened at the middle as he shrugged. In any case, he figured, it wouldn't so bad if that were the case. No one ever regretted being wrong over potential trouble. "Maybe I'm just worried."

"What about?"

His jaw tightened, keeping him from speaking as if his answer were a closely guarded secret. "Well...what if something happens to them?"

Light felt her heart surge as the chocobo crested the next hill. It only took a split second to click, but she knew what he was referring to. Personally she had no concern, but she could understand his feelings. Perhaps, in some way, he was emotionally more invested than she.

"I don't think you should, Hope, really. It would take an act of god to knock that down."

"Yeah...you're right." he had yet to regain any confidence in his tone.

It was pitch black and bitter cold when they returned to the colony, stabling the chocobo and hurrying through the cutting winds to get inside.

They stayed up long enough to have a small bite to eat and argue over who got the bed for the night. Light demanded Hope take it, he was the guest after all. He countered with the fact he brought a sleeping bag with him and that he could sleep just fine on the floor. Light simply wouldn't have it. She snatched the quilt from the cot and hurled his sleeping bag in its place. Take it and be happy, she said. Needless to say he relented.

Lightning stayed awake for another hour, long after Hope nodded off. She sat at the table, her head propped on her hand, eyes drifting closed periodically as she fought off sleep. From time to time her eyes would fall him, pondering how the way he was fully consumed by the sleeping bag made him look like a body in a mortician's bag. There were other things going through mind, fluttering thoughts of all the day's goings on, but briefly. For the most part she couldn't help but dwell on underlying notions on irrefutable facts that had been brought to her attention, Hope's having grown up being one of them.

She watched him a while longer, watched him role over with a snort, then shook her head and let it smack onto the table.

"Christ," she shrugged heavily. "I'm getting old."

And when you're pushing twenty-nine while everyone else is nestled oh-so comfortably in their mid twenties, you're old. With that came a sense of detachment that was so unsettling, like the world was moving on without you.

Author's Note: Damn, I just can't get this thing together, but I know it won't leave me alone until I do it. I know its less than cohesive, but I think once the plot comes into play I'll be able to get a better feel for it. Maybe it'll be easier once I finish the game. I've seen how it ends and all that, though I haven't played through it myself, so I'm not completely blind about this. We'll see. Also, got a special something going on DA, mostly for illustrators. If you want to check it out, see if you are interested, go to .com and read the journal entry.

See you next chapter.


	4. Chapter III

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Three**

The campfire flickered and shuddered in the winds as they swept through the gorge, the two men in its glow shivering as the cold crept up their spines. The chocobos were huddled together nearby, quiet. Flurries started to accumulate perhaps an hour after the moon came up, patches of clouds having moved in from the north as usual. It was a hell of a night to be stuck outside.

Beyond the sanctity and security of the firelight, beyond the pillar along the cusp of the gorge, something moved. The whistle of the winds hid the sounds, the falling of small rocks and the gripping of hands on stone and fragile earth. In the darkness appeared small pinpoints of light, two by two there were easily twenty or more, blinking in and out of sight like crimson fireflies. They were still for a moment, held fast by something invisible, and then they were gone. Not a step, not a shuffle, not a single sound. The air, once it had settled for a moment, began to reek of copper.

The two men shrank against the sudden gust of frigid air that beset them, a gale great enough to snuff the fire like a life too brief. The men jumped to their feet, startled not only by the abrupt absence of light, but also the unsettling warbles of the chocobos. They sensed something lurking, pinpoints of light closing in on them. Their trembling twitters and whines became piercing shrieks, overcome by growls and hisses that stopped as quickly as they came.

One man fished through his coat pockets, his travel bag, finding his pistol and flashlight. The other gripped a machete, his eyes settling on the beam of light that appeared after the flick of a switch. The chocobos were gone, leaving only a stronger scent of copper and a few stray feathers, nothing else.

"Sweet Jesus," one gaped, the flashlight shaking in his hand. "What the fuck...something's out there." he began yanking the light back and forth, in all directions, hoping to catch a glimpse something, anything. The two of them drew closer to one another, terrified, back to back.

"W-what is it?"

"The fuck should I know?"

Panic was setting in, hearts racing, chests heaving, droplets of sweat forming where they shouldn't and rolling down with the pull of gravity. Thoughts fragmented as the brain threatened to shut down. Goosebumps rose, muscles tightened with fear. The stink of copper was near smothering.

The pinpoints of light reappeared, now in great numbers, and brighter with a color more akin to fire and slitted with black. The two men were now surrounded, the winds partially drowning out the sound of serpentine hissing and savage growls. They pressed tighter together, shoulder blades grinding. The circled drew tighter and tighter.

With his hand unsteady the colonist lowered the flashlight with a sharp jerk, having but a split second glimpse of the predators in the darkness. The last thing he would ever see were the burning slitted eyes and fangs, only one shot leaving the barrel of his gun, the light flickering against the base of the pillar as the flashlight struck the ground.

It was pure frenzy, the blurring of shadows and the smothering of screams as throats were squeezed shut by the press of gnashing teeth. Their deaths were quiet but slow. These predators were so well versed in their tactics that it was a seamless, clean act of slaughter. Their hearts stopped from the loss of blood pressure before they could pass out from the inability to breathe. Only a few short minutes passed before they were liberated of every last drop of blood, their bodies unceremoniously left to slump to the ground.

One of the creatures bent down, picking up the flashlight, curious. The others gathered around to have a look as well.

"Fascinating." it hissed, the slits in its eyes flexing as it looked directly into the light. The others stared in awe, never seeing such a thing before.

"If you're finished gawking, gentlemen," came an imposing, no-nonsense voice, "we need to get to work. We're behind."

The gathering quickly dispersed, the creatures that appeared to be like humans returning to whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. One stood by, turning to the other that had interrupted their moment of discovery.

"Lord Anowon, look at what we've found." and he presented the gleaming object with both hands.

"Curious," Anowon scrutinized it closely, flipping the switch on and off several times before shining it against his hand. His skin appeared a pale, ashen shade of blue-gray, and his long fingers were tipped with claws. "Should sell for a handsome price back home."

"Indeed." the other approved with a grin, his fangs showing as he nodded his head. "But, my lord, what is the hurry? Do we not have yet another night on this site before returning home?" a sharp, jet black eyebrow arched.

"I received word of a blizzard moving over the mountain pass by week's end, if not sooner. Lest we wish to be trapped here for the rest of the winter, it would be wise to leave tonight. We need to gather what we can and move on." Anowon flipped the flashlight off and tucked it beneath his fine winter coat, leather and fur that swayed in the chilling wind like his long raven hair that was pulled tight away from his face. "Besides, the humes are on to us. We need to disappear."

"Of course, my lord." and he bowed his head. "As you wish." and he took his leave, returning to work with the others. Lord Anowon had his duties as well, needing to meet with the overseers to make arrangements to move. Their collective bounty would have to be divvied before hand as well.

The vampires could see in the dark, the need for light to work by nonexistent. With hammers larger than any human could wield they shattered the crystal with only a few earnest swings, others standing by with picks to fully dislodge the mineral. The shards and slivers were dumped into a pile to be collected and carried off in large loads to waiting carts to be counted and cataloged. This had been going on for months, and they had only just now been discovered.

Vampires adored colorful, shimmering things, therefore anything that had a glimmer to it could be considered valuable. Rumors of the crystal pillar had crept north, across the mountains to their home city, and it no time it was abuzz with excitement over the possibility. It wasn't long at all before the first scouts were dispatched to see if the stories were true, and it took even less time to send the miners to collect after it was confirmed to exist. Before the first samples of crystal were even delivered, the price by the ounce of the stuff was outrageously high, and so were the papers needed to own the mineral rights required to mine it.

Fortunately Lord Anowon was very, _very_ wealthy, and he was about to be even more so once this load was delivered and sold.

While most of the miners were hard at work harvesting the comparatively thin layer of crystal around the base, two of the vampires started to scale the trunk of the pillar. With no safety equipment, nothing to aid in the ascent, they made their way upward only with their claws. Higher and higher, pushing a hundred feet they went up, mining tools dangling from their belts. It was much colder at this elevation, but they didn't appear to feel it.

"Remind me what you dragged me up here for, again, Helm?" the one behind the other called up to his partner, trying to speak over the wind as it tossed his long black hair around his face.

"Well, Dash" he reached for something to pull himself a little higher, his close cut hair not bothering him a lick, "remember when we used the blast powder the first time, convinced this thing was going to fall?"

"Yup," Dash was quick to reply. "Scared the piss out of me, if I do recall."

"The blast shook some of the larger shards off."

"You mean that big slab that fell the other day?" it was a total heartbreak for everyone when it tumbled into the gorge, never to be seen again.

"Yes, that. I think there's a small opening there now; maybe we could get to the heart of the formation from there."

"You really think so?" Dash sounded rather excited now.

"Couldn't hurt to look, right?" he checked over his shoulder, smirking with his fangs peeking out.

"It could be a waste of time, Helm" the other scowled, "you know how much the overseers hate that."

"Ah, yes, but it could also be a _huge_ payoff."

"If it's a bust, I'm blaming you. And I want half of what we find, if anything."

"Fair enough."

The remainder of the ascent was quiet, their pace steadily increasing as they drew closer to Cocoon's cradle. At times it was hard for them to focus, what with the light of the moon making the crystal come alive with bent and refracted prisms of light. It was almost hypnotic to them, a swinging watch demanding every ounce of their attention. But knowing that time was short forced them to keep their wits, and it wasn't long before they reached their destination.

Helm climbed into the opening just large enough to crouch into, steadying himself before helping his long-haired partner up. With an accepted offering to allow Dash to go first they continued through the opening as far as it would go. By the shape of it, one would think a bubble had been caught up in the sudden seizing formation of the crystal, leaving a hidden breach in the pillar's solidarity. On all fours they crawled through it, being forced to turn every which way and even upside down to its end. A thin layer of crystal, the wall of the bubble, blocked their path, the vampires more than thankful at their forethought to bring their tools. A hammer and chisel were suffice to break through the obstruction, and the pair punched through to the very core of the pillar.

With mouths gaping they climbed out of the squashed tunnel, able to stand straight upon entering the prismatic heart. Their reptilian eyes flexed at the stunning display of their own reflections fractured across the surfaces of countless shapes and structures of electric blue sheen, stones of all shapes and sizes surrounding them. It was a seemingly endless web, a veritable heart at the very core of everything that appeared to glow with its own splendor. There was an energy to the entire structure, as if it were a living thing.

"By the gods," Dash gasped quietly.

"Like I said," Helm was smiling ear to pricked ear, "payoff."

"How are we going to mine all of this in one night?"

"Dunno. Let's look around some more, see what there is to see."

With extreme care they moved about the gaping chamber, mindful that a slip could leave them impaled on the apparently sharp formations all around them. There was a noticeable difference about the crystals here, very clear compared to those on the outer layers. These were of the grade to make weapons and gods only knew what else and, of course, much more valuable.

"We need to tell the others about this." Dash mentioned from the other side of the cavity.

"Once we've had a good look," the other answered. Deep down he was itching to get closer to the cluster at the center, itching to see what was causing it to glow like that. Not to mention he wanted an opportunity to call dibs on anything in particular. It was legal, it was in the law books and the miner's code, and he intended to take advantage of that.

They looked over everything, which took longer than expected due to bouts of mild hypnosis from all the light and color. The two converged on the center of the chamber, at the vertical stem that appeared to support the dazzling heart. They helped each other up, one standing on the other's shoulder in order to reach one of the outcropping prisms large enough to hold onto.

"I think there's something in there," Helm said in passing, his eyes squinting at the crystal. For a structure so large, it was very possible that it was hollow. He almost hoped it was.

"How do we get in?"

"I brought some blast grenades,"

"You wanna blow this, are you out of your mind?"

"Just a little. It'd be enough to open it up. Hell if it cracks in half we could make twice the money."

"Good point." now the long haired one didn't sound so worried. "And what if we happen to find something?"

"We have a deal," Helm nodded as he pulled himself a little higher. "You get half."

Once perched atop the structure, settled between the many sharp quills, he fished through his pockets for the grenades. They were tiny, golf ball sized stones filled with combustible powder. He strung them all together, lacing the fuses so they were sure to detonate at the same time. Once ready he wedged them tight into any crevice they would fit and arranged them in a row, then pulled a flint stone from his pocket.

"Fire in the hole!" Helm's voice echoed as he leaped away to a safer distance, clinging by his claws from a stalactite in the ceiling. Yes, he was actually able to jump that high. The other crawled to the underside of the heart, holding on for dear life until the resounding shudder.

"Did it work?"

"Sweet gods!" came his partner's ecstatic glee from above.

Dash scrambled back to the top, almost slipping in his haste. "What is it, what did we-," his expression became like a doe in the headlights, eyes wide and mouth gaping at the brilliant blue glow spilling out of the fracture in the crystal heart. But it wasn't the light that had Helm so excited.

The two vampires crowded around the opening, almost bumping heads to have a fair look.

"What on earth," Dash squinted to be sure he was seeing correctly, "What is that?"

"I have an idea." Helm pinched the edge of his bottom lip beneath one fang. "And if I'm right," he paused a moment as if too excited, "we're going to be idiotically rich, my dear friend." and he began to laugh.

"But, Helm," Dash looked up, uncertain and slow to find the words, "there are no more. Right?" He was pretty sure of that guess.

"These must be the last." the slits of Helm's eyes were dilating, possibly from the light as well as the excitement.

Dash couldn't wrap his head around it despite how his companion was more than ready to believe it. But there were no more L'Cie, not a one. Eight years ago dozens had revealed themselves, their brands having disappeared, some of whom Dash knew rather well. It quickly became a widely accepted fact that there were none left. So how could this be? These crystalline statues, immaculate female figures joined by clasped hands, should not exist. Yet here they were.

"We've finally done it, Dash," Helm giggled against his clenched fist. "This is it! We're going to live like kings! No more hammer slinging for us!"

"We've got to get them out of here and down the pillar first, Helm, don't celebrate just yet." Dash shook his head. "That passage was barely big enough for us, for saint's sake."

"I have more blast powder," Helm sounded very confident in his solution. "We can blast a new passage."

"That sounds well enough, but," Dash could feel his upbringing starting to show, "how are we to split this down the middle? If we break them it would diminish their value substantially."

"Now don't get all doomsayer on me, we'll find a way. We've got the entire trip back to figure it out. Have some faith, would you?"

"You have faith, I'll have sense." Dash flattened his brow at his companion. "Either way, we're going to need a harness to get them to the ground."

"How about you go back and tell the others, I'll stay here to maintain the claim."

It was a fair arrangement, most of all legal, and Dash was quick to make his way back out.

The party of miners would work without cease until dawn was on their heels, the first rays of it peeking over the horizon. Then they disappeared, as if they had never been there and leaving no trace save the corpses. They headed north towards the mountains, hoping to beat the blizzard with their cargo. As they vanished so did the ethereal gleam of the pillar, its steadfast keepers dethroned from its protective embrace.

One could almost sense the change, present as well as impending.

_(–)_

Shepherd woke with a start, bending sharply at the waist as his eyes snapped open. There was a bad taste in his mouth to match the bad feeling twinging through his insides. Something was gravely amiss and he could feel it. He rushed to dress, nearly tripping over Gurthang in the process. He fumbled with his coat, pulling it crooked onto his shoulders and only fastening one button before yanking open the door. Gurthang slipped out behind him before the door slammed shut.

After the chill of a winter morning settled in his skin Shepherd became aware of the crows. They were still there, gathered in a murder along the roof, and had been there for a few days now. It was worrying him, and he hated to worry. He didn't bother with a saddle or harness for the chocobo he roused from the stable, and he hurriedly led it out before pulling himself onto its back. With a hard kick the bird squealed as it broke in to a run.

Gurthang followed his master out of the pasture, down into the steppe, and froze as the chocobo stopped and Shepherd pointed. Shepherd gave his dog a command, his arm and finger outstretched in the direction of the colony. The dog complied, bounding across the landscape to fulfill his task.

Shepherd went another way, confident in his companion's ability. He kept the chocobo at a steady gallop on the path for the crystal pillar, where he could feel his unease coming from. What had happened? The dread clouded his mind as he feared the worst, not even certain of what the worst may be. However, if the crows were any indication, it was sure to be something horrible.

Lightning heard barking in her dreams, an annoying, repetitious sound that went on for a few minutes before she realized it wasn't in her head. She opened her eyes and found it to be real as she became fully aware. Her back popped when she straightened, having slept all night at the table where she last remembered being. Then she stood and went to the door, the barking having become louder and the definite whine of claws on steel ripping through her ears.

She scowled at the sight of the dog, putting her hands out so Gurthang wouldn't jump on her. He whined and nipped, grabbing hold of the leg of her pants and pulling in earnest.

"What's wrong with you?" already she was sounding irritated with the animal's behavior. The dog simply continued to whine, demanding her attention.

With a snort Hope woke, his head poking out of the sleeping bag and his eyes still full of sleep. "Wassat?" he mumbled.

"Get dressed," Lightning said, having finally relented to look into whatever it was making Gurthang act like this. Was it something serious?

"Kay, I'm coming," he practically fell out of the cot in reaching for his boots. And despite ending up putting his shoes on the wrong feet in the first attempt, only a few minutes passed before the two of them were following Gurthang out the door.

Lightning was growing more uneasy the more she watched the animal, though she wouldn't admit it aloud. It was clear the dog wasn't happy to see her, the nature of his behavior making that pretty clear. So it had to be something else, and his master was nowhere in sight. Had something happened to him? After a brief detour to the chocobo stable, they were on their way to see just what was going on.

The chocobos had to push themselves to keep up with Gurthang. Even as they found Shepherd's tracks in the snow upon passing the trail leading to the pasture the dog threatened to outrun them. They began to draw ever closer to the crystal tower, and Lightning could feel her heart sinking. She thought back briefly to the night before, suddenly realizing that those two volunteers hadn't come back yet. Not a word had been heard from them since.

Neither Lightning nor Hope knew what to think as they crested the hill and started down towards the base of the pillar. Nothing appeared to have changed. Still there had to be a reason for the other chocobo and its rider to be there.

Shepherd turned his head to the sound of Gurthang barking, only glad for an abrupt moment at his companion's return. He had higher expectations in regards to the assistance the dog was meant to bring along. He didn't like it, but there were more important things to worry about, such as the corpse laying on the ground in front of him. He had looked both bodies over and didn't like what he found. It made his blood go cold.

Lightning slid off the chocobo, her pulse increasing at the sight of the dead men. Her hand itched to grip her gunblade, mostly out of sheer habit. Hope was a little hesitant to follow, unaccustomed to seeing the deceased outside of a casket. Lightning fished through her pockets for her communicator, a tiny cellular device, and hailed the center. Not knowing much of the situation at hand she simply told them where she was, and that they needed to send body bags. She shoved the phone back in her pocket after hanging up.

Shepherd could almost feel her eyes drilling into his back as her footsteps grew louder. He bit the inside of his mouth, his hand curled over the back of Gurthang's neck.

"What happened to them?" she stood over him, her arms crossed. Her gaze was actually settled on the back of his head, unconsciously noting that it was not covered. His hair was mud colored with subtle streaks of dim blonde.

He reached down for the cold cadaver's wrist and held it up. The sleeve fell to reveal at least a dozen pairs of holes. They looked like deep bite marks.

Lightning crouched down to get a closer look, seeming to ignore him entirely for a moment. "What the hell did this?" she let the question bounce around between her ears, going through a roll-a-dex of possible answers. None of which made any real sense. Most of the creatures that could have made these had migrated elsewhere for the winter. If there was anything else, chances are they wouldn't have left a body, only appearing to take the blood down to the very last drop. The other body, if checked, would produce identical trauma.

She turned her head to look him in the face, almost expecting him to explain this in spite of knowing he wouldn't. His expression was grim, his brow low over his eyes and his mouth set in a firm scowl. He knew something, that much was clear. But it didn't look like he was in the mood to share.

"Something's wrong, Light," Hope said from behind her.

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious." Lightning stood. "As if the body count wasn't enough."

"No, not that, look." and he tipped his head, forcing Light to turn. "It's gone...dim."

Right away she picked up on what he was seeing, and he was right. Something was terribly wrong, and the absence of the almost assuring light from the heart of the crystal pillar was unsettling at the very least. Her whole body tensed. Little by little things were getting worse. She almost thought if it could possibly go any further, but then stopped and mentally chastised herself. Never-_EVER_-ask if they can get worse.

They always can.

_Crack._

Lightning felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle. What was that sound? Shepherd stood up, his head tilted back as he looked towards Cocoon. Sunlight flickered through a wisp of crystal dust as it fell from a fresh crack.

_CH-CRACK_!

More dust, another large compromise in the structure. Even Shepherd paled, flinching at the sound. Gurthang started to whine and the chocobos were growing restless.

Everything was silent for a moment after that, a stillness settling in the air that was unnatural. Everyone's eyes were on Cocoon.

It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

The shaking in the earth beneath their feet started out low, but it steadily grew until it was difficult to stand. The sound of crystal breaking and crashing against itself was near deafening, heavy drifts of crystal dust tumbling down.

They had no choice but to run. Hope had to pull Lightning away, force her to get back on the chocobo and give it a hard kick. Still, even as the bird bolted over the hill, she couldn't help but look back and watch.

As Cocoon came tumbling down.

Her instincts told her to stop, to turn back and take action, but what could she possibly do?

The pillar collapsed, reduced to dust under Cocoon's weight. Shards and chunks and slivers rained down, crushing and being crushed as they strike the ground. All the while the once looming giant descended, gaining momentum as its shadow shrank.

It touched down, all of Pulse shuddering with a sharp, loud and resounding _BAM_. The ground split and continued to tremble as the small planet started to roll, having landed on the cusp of the nearby gorge. Thank the gods the chasm wasn't nearly wide enough to swallow Cocoon whole, and it eventually came to rest on its side. A tidal wave of dust ripped across the steppe, covering a large portion of it almost ankle deep on top of the lingering snow.

The jolt of the planets colliding threw the chocobos off balance, their riders forced to the ground where they remained until the cloud of dust passed. Lightning finally found it to lift her head as she felt something persistent pawing at her back. She brushed the dust out of her hair, turning her head just in time to have Gurthang lick her face. She pushed him away, wiping his slobber away as she stood. Her bearings were quick to return and she broke into a frantic dash back the way she came, only one thought on her mind as her heart began to race.

Serah.

Blindly she rummaged her pockets once again for the communicator, hailing the center. All she could hear was static, and with a curse forced through a tightened jaw she jammed the useless thing back into her pocket. Fear was threatening to overcome her, panic was setting in. Was Serah all right? Were she and Snow trapped in the rubble of a collapsed structure that had been rattled to pieces by the fall? Was she even still alive? Lightning could feel her throat tightening with dread, suddenly realizing there was nothing she could do. Even if she reached ground zero of Cocoon's fall there was no getting inside without an airship. There was no chance of scaling the outer shell to its opening. What was she going to do? If she lost Serah...

Shepherd watched from the top of the hill, trying to process everything that had occurred in the last few seconds that had seemed like hours. His chocobo was still uneasy as he held it fast by the hair, and Gurthang still whined. Something was so terribly wrong, and now he knew it for sure. He recognized the markings on the bodies, and had smelled the lingering stink of copper in the air just before the pillar began to crack. He felt a heaviness come over him as he finally accepted the nature of things.

Vampires.

It was the only answer, an answer he loathed to acknowledge.

As he rode away, slowly towards the pasture, he whispered a prayer for those on Cocoon. They would need all the help they could get. He would go home, lock his door, with no intention of coming out any time soon.

Within an hour of the collapse, the first sign of hope appeared as airships seen in the sky. Two passed overhead, then two more, and then another, all of them in direction of the colony. As they rounded back again, Lightning waved her arms, hoping one might pick her and Hope up.

Hope couldn't believe how Lightning was acting. She was a nervous wreck, a far cry from her usual composure. It was nigh on frightening. He had expected her to be concerned considering the situation, he was too, but he had no idea it would manifest like this. Her panic seemed to level as an airship circled in for a landing, dropping its cargo gate to let them on, but it was still there and she was poorly hiding it.

Lightning tore through the interior of the ship to reach the cockpit, eager to speak with the pilot.

"Sazh," she gasped.

"We gotta stop meeting like this." he shook his head, trying at some light humor. "You and the kid all right?"

"Fine. What's it like up there?"

"Crazy." his face scrunched with worry. "Power's out again and communication is fractured at best. Fortunately there haven't been any fatalities to speak of, just a lot of frightened people with bumps and bruises."

"What about Snow and Serah?"

Her tone startled him. "I haven't seen them, but maybe one of the other pilots have. I could check with them after we land."

Lightning only nodded, unable to answer for being on the verge of hyper-ventilating. She couldn't calm down, couldn't get a grip on the panic. She was starting to shake and her fingers were spontaneously gripping tightly into fists for no reason. She felt the need to run as fast as was physically possible until she dropped. Maybe that would ease this frantic fever.

The airship touched down and the gate hardly had a chance to fall before Lightning leaped out of the craft and started at a sprint across the platform, her gait slightly off kilter to match Cocoon's new tilt. Hope was off with a start as well, asking among the other pilots if any of them were going Palumpolum so he could check on his father.

Everything was a blur around her as she ran. Lightning couldn't see how most of the buildings were still intact with the exception of the windows, couldn't see the dozens of shaken citizens making their way out of their homes and down the street towards the airships. Some of them were badly hurt, broken bones and bleeding head wounds. If she had noticed them, it would have only served to fuel her fear.

Only a mile or two seemed to stretch on for leagues, but she refused to stop or let her pace dwindle even a mite. She had to get there, she had to, they were counting on her. She stumbled slightly as she turned, the slant of the ground now going down hill instead of sideways. The house was in sight now, and she pushed herself that much harder, almost doubling her stride. The windows were empty of glass, no lights on, the door wide open. Lightning swallowed hard as her mind raced back and forth between terrible possibilities of what she would find once inside.

"Serah?" she cried as she drew closer. "Snow? Answer me!"

"Light?"

Lightning skid to a stop at the reply, not caring if she would be missing some tread off the bottom of her boots for it. She braced herself with her hands against a hard collision with the side of the house, reaching for the frame of the door to help herself inside. Damn this tilting planet!

Snow half-stumbled out of the kitchen, Serah clinging to his free hand as the other supported him against the wall. Lightning could see redness smeared around his mouth, coming from his nose, and there was a smudge of purple beneath his eye accompanied by swelling. Serah looked relatively unharmed, but certainly startled. The cat she cradled in her other arm looked indifferent, drooling and seemingly half asleep.

Lightning could feel her knees threatening to give when she saw them. All the tension and fear dissipated in a single breath, and she went to them with open arms. Now the cat reacted, protesting with his usual gargle of a meow at being squished between three humans.

"See, sis? We're okay." Snow was actually rather touched at the token show of affection. "Nothing to worry about." he paused a moment, looking down to the top of Light's head as it laid against his chest in their embrace. "Are you crying?"

"Shut up." her argument was muffled by his shirt. Still he laughed a little, knowing damn good and well that she was beside herself, never mind her attempts to hide the fact. Lightning really was on the verge of tears, but she wasn't about to let that show. She bit it back and forced it down as usual, finally able to get her composure back. The redness in her eyes faded.

"Claire, what happened?" everyone took a step back. Now was the time to explain this mess as best as possible, starting with Serah's question.

"The pillar collapsed. We don't know why." Lightning shook her head after taking a deep breath. Even being there for the cataclysm didn't reveal enough information to give much more of an account. With that being said, the focus needed to be shifted the things they could control at the present. No pun intended of course. "Their evacuating the injured right now. I want you to pack a few essentials and go to the ships. I'm going to check the rest of the houses and then I'll catch up."

"You sure about that? I wouldn't be surprised if some places are a hard sneeze away from collapse." Snow cautioned.

"Someone's got to help these people." Light countered. "Still, when you get to the colony, talk to Bradley, he'll get you squared away."

"Just come with us, Claire, please." Now Serah was on the brink of crying. One could blame it on the hormones, another could blame sisterhood.

"You'll be fine, you've got each other." it was the most encouraging thing she could come up with. She couldn't claim "I'll be right behind you" or "I'll be back tonight" because there was no guarantee of that. Considering Lightning's prior military career, Serah was accustomed to this; but considering that Serah was now pregnant, that didn't matter a lick. Although Light could understand her sister's sense of insecurity. Everything was literally off level, and that would shake anyone.

Especially someone as fragile as Serah could be.

"She's right, babe, I can take care of you." Snow assured his wife. "Come on, let's pack a bag and get moving."

It took some doing, a time where Light was sure Serah was bound for an emotional meltdown. But, gods bless him, Snow was able to come through as the pillar of strength and kept the peace.

"I got this, sis, don't you worry. Now go do what you have to." Snow gave Light an assuring smile as he cautiously made his way back to the bedroom.

With a sigh of relief Light crossed her arms, perhaps realizing how lucky she was to have Snow. Sure, he could be a total dip shit, but who couldn't at times? He had a good heart, and that's what often made the ultimate difference in times like these.

Before she turned to leave she was able to spot the cat at her feet, just before he decided to christen her boot with a hair ball.

She cringed, but momentarily. "If that's the worst of it...I'll take it."

Author's Note: Sweet God above, pulling teeth would be easier than writing this. I don't know why, but I just can't get a hold of this. The cohesion, I know, is terrible. It's missing something crucial, I can feel it. Maybe, just maybe, I'll find it as the plot comes in. All of this up until now has, by all intents and purposes, been filler, and I hate filler. Still, it won't leave me alone. I have to write it, suck or no suck. And if anyone is wondering about Shepherd in general, I'm slowly but surely getting to it. Be patient. Next chapter: the L'Cie awake once more, and gods know that can only mean trouble.


	5. Chapter IV

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Four**

The sun wasn't due up for at least another hour when the ship touched down in the landing area just outside the colony. The craft dropped its cargo hatch and out came only a sparse party of volunteers and refugees. It was the last of them.

Lightning felt the shudder of the craft landing, yanking herself awake as if startled. Momentarily puzzled as to how she could have fallen asleep in the few minutes it took for the ship to travel here, much less standing up, she quickly gathered what she could of her awareness and disembarked. The bite of winter air came as a shock as her feet fell on snow. It was just enough to keep her eyes open until she made it home, not giving even the slightest damn that the door was unlocked. It was dark, and Snow's snoring reverberated with teeth rattling clarity. With a cringe she fumbled out of her boots and then found her way to the table. The blanket was draped across the back of the chair, still where she left it two days ago.

Two days. Sweet gods was she exhausted.

But now she could rest. The family was safe and sound and life could continue.

Light slumped heavily into the chair, reaching and pulling the blanket across her back. She pulled it tight around her, leaning back and pushing until the back of the chair rested against the wall. She was fast asleep in under five minutes, and so was Pickles after he settled in the pit of her lap. She slept through the day, even as Snow lifted her from the chair and deposited her on the cot, covering her with another blanket. The cat didn't move either except to stick his head out from beneath the covers. Off and on Serah and Snow would glance back and snicker. Not just at how Pickles would try to shove Lightning out of bed by kicking against her back, but how Light would often cling to the pillow for dear life and snore with her mouth open. It was something not often seen and, therefore, ridiculously funny.

At some point in the middle of the afternoon Lightning sat straight up in one quick motion, looked at Snow and Serah, and asked, "Did you have sex in my bed?"

For a moment they were quiet as they looked back at her from the table, eyes wide with surprise at the question, and then shook their heads.

"Okay," and then she went right back to sleep, like it never happened.

She wouldn't wake again until the following morning, seeming grouchy and disoriented despite her long rest. With a groan she rubbed her eyes, her other arm propped beneath her to keep her upright.

"Christ, what time is it?" and then she twisted in search of the only clock.

"Almost ten-thirty."

Light redirected her attention to her sister's voice, her gaze settling on the young mother-to-be as she stood in front of the stove. Light then noticed the soothing scent of tea.

"I really slept that late?"

"All through yesterday too," Serah turned with a pair of cups in her hands, steam rising out of them.

"What?" the face Lightning made forced Serah to hold back a laugh, not that she succeeded. "You're kidding."

"Nope." Serah shook her head, perching on the edge of the cot as she handed Light a cup of tea.

Light appeared devastated at the idea of her having committed such an epic naughty as sleeping in. It was nigh against her nature.

"It okay," Serah assured with a pat on her sister's leg. "You wouldn't have slept so long if you didn't need it."

"I know, but," she just couldn't seem to get her head around it, and took a sip as if to perhaps help things along. Instead it seemed to change her train of thought completely. "Where's Snow?"

"Out." Serah's answer was short as she put the cup to her mouth. "The steppe's under a blizzard watch for the next week, so I would imagine he's out and about doing what he can to make sure we'll get through it."

Lightning shook her head with a grunt. "This winter's turning out to be the worst yet."

"Is it always like this?"

"Yes and no," Lightning took another sip. "It is, but not as frequently as this year. Normally we get a few white-outs, but not a blizzard. Hadn't had one in a couple years."

"Are we going to be okay?" there was a touch of genuine concern in her voice.

Lightning nodded. "We'll be fine, don't you worry. Between the three of us we should be able to get by."

Serah seemed comforted by her sister's confidence, and yet, "I've heard it's already snowing in the mountains."

"We'll be fine, really. The mountain pass will take the worst of it and the valley will get the leftovers." Light assured her again. "No big deal."

"All right." she was satisfied this time, although not entirely at ease. "Want some more tea?"

"No thanks. I need to get out of bed." Light shook her head.

"Are you in a hurry?" Serah smirked as if she knew something her sister didn't.

Not really, no. Still, that wasn't reason enough to stay inside all day, especially since she had spent all of yesterday in bed. After a hardy stretch Light stood up, aiming to change into clean clothes before doing anything else. She'd been wearing the same thing and slept in it for the last couple of days and, frankly, she felt filthy. Although, in the end, she decided to simply have a bath and be done with it.

Once clean and dressed and properly groomed, Lightning felt fully awake and ready to face whatever the day had in store. She didn't expect too much, but had a nagging suspicion that she needed to be somewhere. Maybe it was because her typical daily routine was thrown off, everything just seemed a little...cock-eyed. She barely registered Serah talking to her over her own thoughts, searching for that certain something she needed to be doing.

Her phone started to buzz in the pocket of her jack that was laying in a pile by the bed. She practically leaped for it, almost dropping it in her hurry to flip it open.

"Farron speaking,"

"Farron, it's Bradley." the voice came through the connection. "The coroner just finished the autopsy on the two bodies recovered from ground zero. I think you should come by and have a look for yourself."

Her brow tightened at his tone of voice, her eyes seeming severe while images flooding her head of the corpses full of holes that were so suspicious in their pattern. All of them in pairs and everywhere.

"I'll be there in a few minutes." she replied, hanging up without a goodbye.

Serah watched her sister rush to put her boots on, curious of the hurry. "What's wrong?"

"I have to go to the center," Light's reply was short and less than sweet, "I'll be back later." and a gust of wintery wind burst through the open door as she left.

On her way Lightning happened to glance northward, to the mountains, and cringed at the nasty gray clouds beginning to gather around them. Now a blizzard wasn't starting to sound so unlikely, the idea forcing her to shake her head. Winter was bad enough without these freak storms. But she shoved it all to the back of her mind, remembering what she was doing out here to begin with. She would find Bradley at his desk as usual.

"Farron, good to see you here so quickly." he stood up, walking around his desk.

"So what's the problem?" she asked as she followed him down an adjacent hallway.

"No problem," he said. "We just can't seem to figure out what did the fellows in. We're calling in everyone who was there, thinking maybe they could give us a clue."

"I saw the markings," she explained. "Can't say I know what put them there."

"That's not the weirdest thing, though."

"There's more?" she was rather sure that wasn't possible. So much for that.

"Oh yeah." Bradley nodded as they turned a corner. "I couldn't believe it when I heard, had to have a look for myself which is _not_ something I would normally do." you could hear a slight quiver in his voice, as if he were disgusted about something. "Maybe, since you've traveled more than me, you'll be able to figure it out."

What could she possibly know about the creepy crawly carnivores of this planet more than anyone else? With her thoughts all abuzz, she continued to follow Bradley to the locked room where the bodies were being kept. He unlocked the door, let her inside, and then flipped the lights on just as he shut it again.

Without hesitation she approached the closes occupied table and grabbed the hem of the white sheet covering the corpse, almost ceremoniously pulling it back. Her brow lowered, darkening her eyes. Once she pushed passed the pity, she found bewilderment in her inability to see what Bradley ha been going on about. By the looks of it, nothing about the corpse had changed since she saw it the first time.

"What exactly am I looking for?" she had to ask.

"You won't believe me." Bradley stood by the door with his arms crossed, unable to bring himself any closer than that.

"Try me." She listened for his answer, hearing a quiet sigh after a moment of silence.

"There's no blood."

She twisted her neck to look at him, one eyebrow lifted in disbelief. "What?"

"Not a single drop of blood in either one of them. Couldn't find a trace of it anywhere at the scene."

"Did it just evaporate?" it was the only explanation she could believe, never mind how the trauma on the bodies didn't support it.

"Doubtful."

"Then how?"

"The coroner sounded pretty sure that it was extracted somehow, by force most likely."

"So," she almost laughed, "something just...sucked them dry?"

"Seems so."

"That's ridiculous. What the hell could've done that?"

"I was hoping you could tell me, or at least give an educated guess." Bradley adjusted his glasses. "So much for that idea."

"Who else have you talked to about this?"

"Young Mr. Esthiem had just left when I called you, he hadn't any ideas either except to speak with you," he stroked his chin as if there were a long list of people he needed to remember. "And I've been trying to contact Shepherd, but I haven't heard from him since the fall. He won't answer any messengers I send for him."

"Sounds like he's hiding." she said.

"From what? Man's built like a tank, what's he got to hide from?"

Lightning was convinced the shepherd had to know something. He'd called them to investigate the pillar in the first place, and the look on his face at the sight of the bodies the other day appeared to support her suspicion. It had been a look of dismay, a lack of surprise as if he'd known, and feared it, all along.

"I don't like that look on your face, Farron." he really didn't. That dark seriousness frightened him, convinced it had to frighten everyone.

Lightning didn't answer him, didn't really have one. Without another word she pushed passed him, going back out into the hallway to leave the center. Once outside, she headed for the stables.

_(–)_

Shepherd had not left his house since Cocoon's fall, not even looked out a window since locking the only door. He didn't answer any of the knocks, acknowledge any visitors that came out of a deep routed caution that bordered on phobic. He kept the fire constantly lit, refusing to be in complete darkness for more time than it took to stoke the flames. Needless to say he hadn't slept much either, or even lit his pipe to soothe his nerves. He kept his largest, sharpest hatchet on his belt at all times.

All of these things he did out of fear, though he wouldn't describe it in that way. To him it was precaution, a reaction to lessons learned many years ago. It was for his survival.

For time being he sat at his table, a blanket draped across his bare back as he ate a meager meal. It was simple stew that had little flavor, but enough in it to satisfy one's hunger. He ate quietly, going out of his way not to sip too loudly, constantly listening for movement outside. His hearing was not as good as Gurthang's, but it seemed like he thought it was. In any case, however, there was nothing to be heard. No sheep, no wild dogs or chocobos, no boogeyman. Well, there were still the crows.

Gurthang lay sleeping in front of the fire, his head atop his folded paws. His ear flipped back and forth, and then his eyes opened. His head snapped up and he barked, making his master jump, spilling some soup in his lap as his hand jerked. Gurthang kept barking as he made for the door, putting his front paws on it.

With a swear from being startled Shepherd stood, his only hand reaching for the hatchet at his belt as he went to the door as well. Normally Gurthang would growl if anything or anyone drew near to the house when he had locked the door, not bark. What was he so excited about...maybe he just needed to go to the little dog's room. With the ax in hand he peered through a crack in the door. He spotted a chocobo first, one with a saddle, then his eyes lowered to a head of pink hair and a severe cerulean gaze. He flinched and then rolled his eyes, putting the weapon back in its place to free his hand that he might open the door.

Why open it now? Because that look gave him the distinct feeling that if he didn't, she would kick it in anyway. He pushed the dog out of the way, pausing only a second before he pulled the door open. The cold air bit at his bare chest, but not as much as her eyes gnawed at him.

The two glared at one another in silence for a long moment, then Shepherd lifted his brow as if to say "what do you want?".

"You know something you're not sharing." she said right out. No need in wasting time.

His brow flattened. He didn't want to share, not with her or anyone. He just wanted to be left alone. Maybe if he stayed out of sight long enough, the problem would go away and he could go back to living his life.

"It would really help us out." she tried playing to his generous side. If he was willing to help the colony as he had been, maybe this approach would convince him to do it in reference to this. She forced herself to say "Please.".

He just looked at her, his expression seeming full of contempt. Maybe, he thought for a moment, if he didn't say anything she would just go away like all the others.

Lightning studied him, sized him up while he was quiet, momentarily not caring why it was taking him so long to answer. He really was a large man, broad chested and strong looking. Bradley was right. She spied a small nick of a scar just beneath his left collar bone, another, larger and uneven one on his throat. There was another stretched across his left cheek, and yet another on his top lip, the phantom of a total split that took months to seal. The seemingly natural darkness around his eyes was staggering, and the way his hair was so uneven and plentiful made him look savage. Why she hadn't noticed these things the other day came as little surprise, she had her mind on other things. Speaking of which,

"Why did you disappear the other day? We could've used the extra hand."

He almost felt insulted, perhaps by the use of words. But she probably hadn't noticed, so he thought to show her. He let the blanket fall off his back, keeping hold of it as he pointed to the empty socket at his left side.

Lightning felt a tiny flinch go through her at the sight of the mangled mass of scar tissue, but was able to hide it, her face unchanging. "I'm sure we could've found something for you to do. My family was up there."

He scowled, perhaps put off by her attempts to make him feel guilty. He understood the severity of the situation regarding Cocoon's fall, was certain people had even died in the incident, but he was equally confident in knowing he wouldn't have been able to change that.

She could feel the anger starting to bubble up, anger coupled closely with frustration. She was teetering on the edge of something bad by letting it get personal, and she knew it, so she pulled back a little. "What killed those two men? You know, don't you?"

Oh yes, he knew very well, but he still didn't want to talk to her. He didn't even want to think about uttering a word of it. He was sure to get jinxed. He only stood to look at her but a moment longer before slamming the door and locking it again. He tried to push her out of his mind, the look on her face, that piercing, impaling gaze. He sat back down and tried to finish his lunch.

Perhaps out of reflex she stepped up to the door and pounded it with her fist. No answer came.

That's it. She had tried her damnedest to be nice.

With a hard kick the door flew back, the lock broken and dangling from its hinge. Gurthang sprang to his feet, his hair bristling as he growled. He actually growled at her, refusing to tolerate anyone threatening his master in such a way. She ignored the animal, her instincts paying much more attention to the man now brandishing a hatchet. Though full of fear from the sudden invasion, he still didn't speak. His heart was going a mile a minute and he forced himself to relax, setting the ax against the leg of the table before turning away from her and taking his seat once more.

Lightning could feel her blood pressure spike. Now she was getting flat out pissed.

"People are dying," she marched over to the table, standing right beside him so he was sure to hear her, as if he hadn't been listening this entire time. "Don't you care?"

He didn't turn his head, didn't acknowledge her. He was convinced she would go away if he stayed quiet. It had worked with everyone else, who was to say she was any different? Yes, she would eventually go and take that damning glare of her's with her.

But to address the posed question; No. He really didn't care, so long as the trouble out there didn't darken his doorstep.

Lightning tightened her jaw and slammed her fist onto the table. "Answer me!"

She didn't own him, so he exercised his right to remain silent in spite of her fervent demand, finding a peculiar thrill in his defiance. There had only been one woman in his entire life he had ever taken orders from, and she was certainly not that woman.

The next thing Shepherd realized was falling backwards and the chair splintering beneath him as a shocking pain crackled through his jaw. The back of his head struck the floor, making his stomach flip. Gurthang started barking again, adding to the ringing in his ears. He could taste copper in his mouth from biting his tongue.

When he was able to see straight again he looked up, teetering between surprised and confused, to see her standing there, glaring down at him. For a moment he could only stare, his silvery eyes set wide as his mind tried to process everything that just happened. He'd never been hit by a woman before, and it-for lack of a better word-floored him.

"Stubborn jackass," Lightning was seething. She turned on her heel and started towards the door, fed up to here with him. Imagine her astonishment when Shepherd reached out and took hold of her ankle. She hit the floor after a firm jerk, arms out and face down. She could feel the burn of impact in her face, wondering briefly if she had broken her nose in the fall. Then the anger came back. Lightning twisted onto her back, ripping her leg from his grip. Her subsequent reaction was based purely on instinct, feeling threatened, and she lunged at him.

Gurthang went ballistic. Seeing his master and this stranger wrestling on the floor, he wasn't sure if this was an altercation or a game. He barked and barked, bouncing on his front paws and nipping at the humans. Maybe he was hoping they would let him play along.

Shepherd was, more or less, allowing Lightning to manhandle him. He had been raised not to hit women. However, after the third time of being socked in the face, blood now running down his chin, he'd had enough. He simply would not stand to be abused like this in his own home, not by her, not by anyone. Shepherd bucked his hips, throwing her off so he could sit straight.

Lightning righted herself after hitting the floor, raising her arm and clenching her fist to go at him again. Just as she was about to throw the punch, Gurthang tackled her out of nowhere, tongue and tail wagging in play. His claws were digging into her chest and shoulder, pinching as they tore through her jacket. She fought with him, the dog impossibly heavy. This allowed plenty of time for his master to get to his feet. Shepherd took a moment to wipe the blood from his mouth, taking a calming breath before he lost his temper. He then gave a firm command for Gurthang to back away, which the animal quickly obeyed, and grabbed Lightning by the ankle once more.

She kicked and swore at him, not taking kindly at all to being dragged across the floor. She landed a blow to the back of his knee, making him stumble, but he quickly recovered. With a curse he lifted her up off the floor, now carrying her with such ease that you would think he was simply toting an unruly sack of sheep fuzz. Gurthang was still prancing about like a spastic puppy and yapping.

Shepherd took his violent guest directly outside, several steps from his doorway, and tossed her into the yard. Now he was gasping for air, his heart pounding, his blood was pounding through him, almost making him hurt just beneath the skin. He couldn't hold it in anymore.

"_YEN FAH_!" he shouted, thrusting his finger out towards the way she had come, and then twisted around to return to the house. He shut the door, never mind that he couldn't lock it anymore. If she came back, he told himself, he was going to get rough.

Light scrambled to her feet, wiping snow off her face and clothes. She was furious to say the least. But that anger was brief, like a puff of smoke from a dragon's nose. It was overwhelmed by, first, confusion, and t-hen came that tiny consolation that she finally got a word out of him. Of course she had absolutely no idea what the hell he said.

The chocobo had seen the entire thing, and could only look at her, appearing confused as it warbled.

"Shut up." and she shoved the bird by the beak before mounting and returning to the colony.

Hope was there to meet her. "Where'd you disappear to?" he leaned against the frame of the stall, his arms crossed and brow raised in curiosity.

She shrugged. "I think I just took myself for a baloney ride."

"Huh?" normally, if he understood correctly, you would walk back from a baloney ride. "What happened?"

She didn't realize the sight she was. Her hair was mussed, wet, her jacket was ripped from the dog, and there was a sodden streak of dirt up her back from the shepherd's floor. Not to mention the red and purple splotches of bruising around her nose that she couldn't see. Finally she just smirked and said "Socializing with the neighbor."

"Damn."

She flinched at the sound of him swearing, simply unaccustomed to it.

"Did you learn anything? Guy at the desk said you went to talk to someone about what happened."

She nodded, that sarcastic tilt on her lip still present. "Oh yeah, loads."

He could tell something wasn't right by the tone of her voice. "Well...you know, you've never been known for your social graces." he chanced to smile a little.

"The man's a damn mule." she took the saddle off of the bird, putting it in its proper place as she talked. "He's worse than Snow."

"Wow, didn't think that was possible." Hope followed behind her, not too close, but just close enough.

She didn't want to think about it anymore; time to chance the subject. "Did you find your dad?"

"Yeah, he was okay. A little shaken, but...the old man is sturdy."

"Glad to hear it."

"I visited Snow and Serah,too. They seem to be doing all right."

She only nodded, still trying to get over being tossed in the snow. Very few things had ever been so frustrating that it followed her home. "Yeah. The house was a little trashed, but they're okay."

"When's the baby coming?"

"Couple of months, maybe by spring."

"That's great." he sounded just as excited as anyone else who heard about it. Anyone except Lightning.

"I'm going to go speak with Bradley for a minute." Light felt the need to stray away from the conversation now, a few too many curiosities going through her head to allow her to focus on it the way she should.

"Oh, okay. You think I could come by later?"

"I don't see why not, but what for?"

"Maybe if you and I put our heads together we could come up with something to explain what happened to those two guys."

"We saw the same thing." she was positive that was enough kill the idea. Not that she didn't want him around, she just didn't see the point in discussing a dead end. If only that savage shut-in would've come clean...

"I know. It was just an idea. Oh well, I'll see you later then."

"Yeah, later." She didn't wave good-bye, she didn't react much at all to his departure, and went on her way. Lightning would find Bradley back at his desk, going through a file cabinet.

He wasn't even looking her way, and over the the typical hustle and bustle he had registered her coming in.

"Back already?" he turned his head, having found the file he wanted and started back to his desk. "That was fast. What did you do, try and it beat it out of him?" he laughed, and then noticed the look on her face. He looked at her over the rim of his glasses, his expression becoming one of apparent disappointment when she didn't answer right away. "You did, didn't you?"

"What did you expect?"

"Farron, really," he attempted in an almost scolding tone.

"And that primitive wouldn't even say anything until he threw me out!" she protested. "Literally."

He looked surprised. "He..._threw_...you out? Huh, that's new." He was sorry to have missed that.

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, showing her displeasure.

"What do you want me to do about it, Farron, seriously? I'm not going to harass the man just because you couldn't play nice, regardless of what he knows or what_ you_ _think_ he knows. By the sounds of it you're just pissed off because he fought back."

"You're being a dick."

"It's a perk of the job, so sue me." he laughed, shaking his head. "But...you said he spoke to you, so what's the problem?"

"I don't have a clue what he said." and she had a good feeling it had absolutely nothing to do with what she wanted to know.

"What did he say exactly?"

She searched her memory, found the phrase, and repeated it to him the best she could.

"Ah, I see." he nodded, still grinning as he opened and closed a drawer in his desk, a pen now in his hand. "I suppose it would've been helpful if I told you this before hand...but I don't think the man speaks English."

"You think?" she cocked am eyebrow at him, less than happy to hear that. "So do you know what he said?"

"A little. In the time I've been working with him I've managed to pick up a few things. I keep asking him to make a translation primer for me...although I'm pretty sure he understands me when I talk to him," he paused, signing a piece a paper and stamping it, "but I'm think he said 'go away'."

"Probably should have guessed that." she shook her head. "What's his problem? Really."

"I've never asked, never had the guts to." Bradley sniffed. "Then again, I've never tried to punch him either,"

"Come off it."

"What? I'm just stating a fact. Still...I don't know." and he shook his head, taking off his glasses. "Just go home, Farron. Maybe sleeping on it will do some good."

What other option did she have? So she did go home and nursed her injured ego as well as her sore nose, and try her damnedest to explain the events of the day as vaguely as possible.

_(II)_

The cold front was moving across the north side of the mountains. It was starting to snow, the worst of it having already settled around the many peaks to the south. The moon was out, full, but it wouldn't be visible for much longer. The clouds would choke it out by midnight.

Half of the mining party had stopped for the night, lighting large fires and gathering closely around them. Vampires were naturally on the cold-blooded side, so if they didn't stay warm they would go comatose. Something that wasn't true for chocobos, but that didn't stop the birds from piling together in the gathering snow beneath one of the covered wagons.

Helm and Dash sat together by the fire, fangs chattering as they clutched their blankets tighter. They watched the flames intently, the flickering tongues of light as fascinating as always.

"Saw you talking to Lord Anowon on our way down this morning." Helm mentioned in passing. "What was that all about?"

"He made me an offer for the statue." Dash sounded distant, his attention hardly divided to be given to his friend.

"You didn't sell to him, did you?"

"I had to, you know that." Dash managed to look away, giving Helm a look of "duh". "But he paid me well."

"What the hell did he want it for?" which was actually very stupid question. Vampires were notoriously covetous creatures, often times wanting something simply because someone else had it.

"He thought it was pretty, the usual reasons. Anowon is a collector anyway, so I figured he wanted it for his gallery or something."

"But think of the money we could've made off of that!" Helm sounded heartbroken. "Selling the pair of them would have set us for the rest of our lives!"

"Hush up. I was bound by law to sell to him." which was true.

"So how much did you get for it?"

Dash smirked a little. "Two-thirds of his share of the haul. I put it in our wagon while you were driving."

Helm's eyes widened, the slits dilating. "No shit? Well you should have mentioned that in the first place!" His mood improved immediately. "Now were set for half of the rest of our lives."

"It's a start, right? That gives us the other half to figure out what to do with ourselves." Dash looked back at the fire, seeming somewhat drowsy.

"I suppose that's the fun part, huh?" Helm yawned. He was feeling it too. "I can't wait to be an old fart surrounded by women and disgustingly large piles money."

Dash only laughed, his eyes blinking slowly in the throws of threatening sleep. The day had been long, it was cold, and it was late. All of the miners were tired. In several groups they huddled together and fell asleep. The only ones still awake were the bondsmen, or bodyguards if you prefer. They would watch the wagons and the miners through the night. They were, by all rights, a different breed of vampire, so they could stand the cold without worry of passing out.

It was like waking from a nap you didn't intend to take. A heavy heat and numbness prevailed from head to toe, and memories of getting to that point were vague at best. There was an urge to stretch, to move, or even roll over, but there was no physical purchase to do so. But then your full gambit of senses kick in and you start to hate yourself. (I know I sure as hell do.)

The first thing that registered was the bitter cold, the kind of chill that makes you shrink and bite your lip against a curse. Then came the first sharp breaths that brought the cold inside, made her shiver and her lungs burn. Her heart started to pound. Her eyes opened, and blurred darkness came into focus. And with all those things, like before, came confusion.

Where was this? How many years have passed? Typical questions anyone in Fang's position would surely want answered. As she looked around, trying to place herself, another question popped in her head. One that made her feel almost frantic.

Where was Vanille?

Slowly, quietly, Fang moved to her hands and knees, searching blindly through the dark to find her lance. She felt over wooden planks for the weapon, only adding to her confusion as to her location. Something was quite clearly wrong. If she was here, what had become of Cocoon? Something else she couldn't answer, but cared little about. Her priority was Vanille, everything else could wait.

Fang found the hem of the thick cloth covering the wagon and lifted it, chancing a peek. She felt the frigid pinpricks of snow flakes against her skin as she stuck her head out, looking around. She made out the fire and the shadows of what had to be bodies gathered around it, aside from that it appeared to be an open expanse of land filled with absolutely nothing with mountains to the south. The peaks seemed familiar.

She pulled back, going to the other side of the wagon to see what else there was, finding yet another wagon only a few inches away. There were at least two more of them, lined up one beside the other. Maybe, she considered briefly, Vanille was hiding in one of them. Just as Fang was about to move forward she paused, recoiling in a flash back into the darkness of the wagon. Something, or someone, was walking around close by, and she had the distinct feeling that being spotted would not be a good thing.

Fang could almost make out a shadow through the wagon's covering and watched it closely until it disappeared. If she listened hard enough she would be able to hear more of them elsewhere. There were four bondsmen patrolling that night. When she was sure the coast was clear she tried again, slipping into the next wagon with little more than a quiet rustle and a silent prayer that no one heard it.

All she would find there were large sacks full of crystal shards that nearly took up every inch of available space. Fang was forced to settle on top of them to move around, which only ran the risk of more noise to give her away. She held her breath, as if that would help, and continued to listen for the footsteps. Once in the clear she moved on to the next one, where she would find the supplies for the party. Mining tools, barrels of blast powder, and chocobo feed.

With her heart threatening to bottom out, she checked the other side to find no more wagons. That frantic, shaking feeling was threatening to come back. And that threat was about to become a promise.

One of the bondsmen picked up on the bated breath, the scent, the unsteady rhythm of an unfamiliar heartbeat. He paused in mid stride, his other foot hovering inches from the ground as his ears twitched at the tiny sounds. He had been trained, and bred, to find these things and distinguish them from other possible sources, but these things fit no vampire present.

They did, however, fit a human.

Without a second thought the vampire took large steps towards the nearest wagon, gripping the edge of the cloth and tearing it back.

Fang's reaction was immediate. She lunged at him, shoulder first and plowed him to the ground. She could hear the rush of air leave his lungs. Using her remaining momentum she rolled to her feet, breaking into a sprint. Anyone else nearby surely would have heard that, so it was her best option at the moment. Already she could hear footsteps in hot pursuit. All of the other bondsmen gave chase with the intent to subdue the human, bring her back alive. She was of no value dead.

Fang leaped over the pile of sleeping miners, over the dwindling campfire and out into the snowy darkness to the south. The mountains would be her best hope, her best place to hide. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the shadows, the white slits of eyes, and watched them blink in and out of sight. One of them disappeared completely, only to reappear coming up on her left side and looking to try and tackle her. The vampire dove with his arms out to seize, and she jumped as he hit the dirt chin first. Fang thought to laugh until he sprung to his feet as quickly as he'd fallen.

Crap, she thought to herself as she pushed her legs to carry a little faster. The cold air was starting to make her lungs burn and her throat tighten. Snow was getting in her sandals, and gods know how much that hurts. Already she was beginning to feel fatigued, and hated it. She needed to respond to the threat closing in behind her if she wanted to make it out of this.

Fang pulled her lance from its resting place on her back, gripping it tightly in both hands as she stopped and spun around in a sharp motion. One of the bondsmen drew close, just close enough, and she brought the bladed end of the weapon upward, splitting him from crotch to collar bone. He fell in two misshapen halves, the snow turning near black with his essence as it gushed from his corpse. This caused the other vampires to snap into a frenzy, the scent of blood in the air having perhaps pulled some sort of trigger that set off their predatory instincts. Lips flared back to reveal fangs, movements quickened to an inhumane frequency, and now they were geared to kill; something they had been procreated to be experts in.

Every bondsmen carried the same types of weapons, yet they varied for each of them depending on personal preference and the job. Fang watched them in the dying moonlight as one slipped something onto his hand, a leather gauntlet with a steel attachment that turned his first two fingers into nine-inch long blades. The other pulled a coiled something from his belt, a whip tipped with a heavy metal barb at the striking end.

Still, Fang was ready, never mind that she could barely see.

But the bondsmen could see her very clearly. Even if they couldn't, they could still smell her right down to the droplet of sweat easing down the back of her neck. And there was no mistaking that heartbeat, wild and powerful, bordering on frightened. It made them hungry, and the way they circled made that evident.

For several tense minutes they exchanged glances, not moving, not advancing or retreating. It was like watching the fuse on a bomb. Then the bondsman cracked his whip, and the standoff broke into a blur of savage movement.

The smaller, quicker of the two came at Fang from behind, claws poised and snarling with a loud hiss. Fang spun the lance in a hard, fluid motion to strike the vampire in the ribs, forcing him down. The whip snapped again, and this time Fang felt a breath stealing pain erupt down the length of her back as she snarled a curse. She turned towards the other vampire, lance at the ready as she charged him.

This vampire was light on his feet, dancing about just out of reach of Fang's spear, cracking his whip with a mere flick of the wrist to keep her at bay. The leather cracked against her hand, laying the flesh across her knuckles and fingers wide open, forcing her to recoil. He bent his arm at the elbow and quickly extended it again, forcing the whip to ripple forward, the small barb at the end of it lashing upward.

Fang twisted at the sudden pain in her face, her her hand reaching to cover her left eye. She felt the warm blood gathering against her palm. She hesitated only a moment, long enough for that brief terror of "oh god, my eye" to ebb.

The vampire watched her cower in the dark, seeming pleased in a way only a confident hunter could be. With his weapon slack behind him he chanced a few steps closer, and then steadily began to raise his hand in preparation to strike again.

Fang heard the whistle of air, the twist of leather, and reacted. She held the lance, long end out, and allowed the whip to curl around it. Despite the bondsman's superior strength, he was unable to retrieve it. He pulled and pulled with no results. Fang pulled as well, giving it everything she had to keep her grip with blood slicked hands. She waited for the perfect moment, when the tension was just tight enough, then hurled the spear, using her own strength as well as the force of the vampire's resistance to propel it. It was too fast for him to react, and he paid for his poor reflexes. His body would be discovered with the contents of his skull spattered across several feet of snow and in pieces.

She didn't waste a second in trying to retrieve her spear, dashing for it with hand outstretched. Fang just managed to curl her fingers around the middle of the weapon when the other bondsman's heavy form collided with her, losing her grip just as she hit the ground. She was forced onto her back, the vampire on top of her like a hungry beast, teeth gnashing and claws searching for something to tear into. She fought against him tooth and nail, bucking her hips to try and toss him off and socking him in the mouth with her uninjured hand. The heavy blows didn't appear to phase him.

The vampire opened his jaw wide, going so far as to unhinge it, and forced himself down with the intent to sink those inch long fangs into her throat. He had been smelling her blood long enough to be mad with hunger, he wanted to feel that heavy pulse against his tongue. Fang put up her arm in a defensive gesture, out of raw response, and cursed at the white hot, piercing pain that shot through her. His teeth found the bone, the lethal tips scraping as she struggled to pull away. She began to punch him hard in the temple, anything to make him unlock his jaws. It was starting to burn.

When that didn't work she aimed lower, her fist crushing his Adam's apple and making the blood-sucker choke. Needless to say he let go. Fang writhed beneath him until she freed one leg and then used it to shove him away. She scrambled to find her spear, a task made near impossible by the darkness. It couldn't be too far...

Just as she gripped it she felt the bondsman fall against her once again, forcing her face first into the ground on her hands and knees. She clenched her jaw against a scream as his claws started to cut into the tender flesh of her belly. Fang forced herself up, summoning up every ounce of her remaining strength to get onto her feet and standing in spite of the vampire's solid weight. She could feel hot and heavy breaths against her neck, and used it as a guide as she threw her head back, clashing firmly with his face. Again and again she repeated the motion until his grip loosened and he fell on his backside. Then she turned, spinning the lance, and letting it reach outward until the blades went through him, severing his head from his shoulders in a clean cut. He slumped flat on his back, his arms out.

The full extent of the cold and the hurt began to settle in as she tried to catch her breath. Her joints were throbbing like the fresh wounds, and taking a full breath was a painful chore. The snow was coming down harder. She didn't have the time to waste, she needed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between her and those creatures.

Somehow Fang managed to find her way through the darkness and growing winter storm. Up the slopes of the mountains she pressed, higher and higher towards the pass just beyond the first summit. It only grew colder, the winds wilder and cutting, and the snow was more than ankle deep up here. She could almost feel her toes turning blue. Half of her prayed Vanille wasn't stuck out in this mess, or had encountered those...things; the other half was consumed with the idea of survival. She needed to find shelter or she would freeze to death.

All she could think to do was put her head down and keep walking, don't stop, don't slow down, just keep going. Even as she stumbled about in the dark, knees sliced open from snow-hidden stones on the path, she refused to stop.

By the grace of the gods, or perhaps sheer luck, Fang survived until dawn. Thought the blizzard still wrought havoc through the pass, she could make out something nestled among the slopes ahead. As before, the area became familiar, even more so as she trudged closer. It was a hope renewing sight, and it wasn't long before it became clear where she was. It served to grant her some much needed strength.

Fang was home.

The windmills, the now frozen lake, the dilapidated dwellings and run down remains of Oerba, it was still here. It gave her the energy to move a little faster even though she was certain she didn't have it in her. She was beginning to feel so tired, so numb from the cold, having fought it all night and now unable to keep it back any longer. Fang wouldn't much remember making it into the village, or ascending the less than steady stairs that led to the dwelling she would always consider to be hers.

Shivering was becoming uncontrollable, she couldn't even keep her teeth together to stop them from chattering. Fang went unsteadily from room to room, gathering up anything she could use to start a fire. Long abandoned furniture were the first things ponied up as a sacrifice, even the large table in what was the dinning area, she split into slivers with a heavy swing of the lance. All of it was tossed into a pile, and then she frantically searched for a way to set it alight.

Fang ripped out drawers, the contents crashing to the floor, and tore open cabinets and anything else. She was nigh on pissed off at how little her efforts were yielding, her desire to be warm vastly overwhelming her respect for her surroundings. After what seemed like a short eternity of wanting to yank her hair out, she spotted a book of matches on the floor, almost throwing herself at them. It was difficult to strike them with numb, unsteady hands, but she persevered until it ignited.

Even with the first few tiny flickers of flame she began to feel better, warmer. As it grew she stepped away from it, gathering up every single blanket she could find. The beds were completely stripped of their linens which she carried back to the fireside. Fang then stripped naked, hanging her sodden clothes on a bed post to dry. She then wrapped herself tightly up in the blankets, still shivering hard enough to hurt.

She would be all right now, Fang told herself. She could make it for a while here, long enough for the wounds to seal at least. The worst of them had to be the lash across her hand. The injury was deep enough for bone to be exposed. After that was the bite and the split she could feel going along the lower half of her spine. Anything else was superficial and only bothersome at most, and she felt fortunate that she could still see out of her left eye.

"Hell of a world to wake up to." she whispered, her voice a little hoarse.

With her instincts no longer wired to keep her alive, Fang was able to worry about about other things. Two in particular; one being those fanged creatures that seemed hauntingly human, and the other being Vanille.

Where was she? Was she okay? Had she managed to get away from those blood suckers too?

A part of her was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, if she stayed put long enough Vanille would find her. She would keep the fire lit as long as possible, let it act as a beacon...but would she see it through this horrible storm? Oh gods, what if she was lost in the blizzard? There would be no going to find her, Fang just wasn't able. The fear the idea instilled in her was near crippling.

No, Fang shook her head in a stiff motion; Vanille was fragile, but not stupid.

All there was to do was hope. Hope and pray that she was alive and, at the very least, out of harm's way. Until that was ascertained, one way or another, Fang's priority was to make it through the night.

It was going to be rough, as the day had only just begun.

Author's Note: How I'm going to pull this off, I still don't know. I suppose I just haven't had a clear picture in my head of what I wanted from the beginning to now, only until about halfway through to the end. It's almost like I'm flying by the seat of my pants as far character development goes. I'm going to go ahead and say that this final fantasy isn't exactly garnering many accolades for character depth. But maybe it'll come a little more easily now. In any case, I would really like some feedback about this so far, as it could make or break my decision to continue. Chances are I will, regardless, but I would like to know what you readers think. If you want more, feel free to say so. If not, feel free to keep it to yourself as silence tends to speak volumes. Next chapter: Fang fights naked. Oh joy.


	6. Chapter V

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Five**

Helm stood there, ankle deep in snow, gaping at the empty wagon before him. Because of the cold he had slept deep enough to miss all the goings on of last night, not realizing anything had happened at all until after the sun came up. He and the other miners noticed the missing bondsmen, and then one by one became aware of the smell of blood on the wind. They broke camp immediately, needing not just to get along home, but to flee from any danger that might still be lingering about. The last of the bondsmen went out to find his comrades as well as the cause for this, and the miners gathered their belongings and hitched up the chocobos.

"It's gone," Helm whimpered. "My fortune,"

Dash frowned as he stood behind his friend. "It's okay, Helm, really. I'm sure there are other treasures out there."

"But none like that." he sniffed. "I mean...the bust on that statue was amazing. And now...it's all gone," Helm was threatening to start bawling his eyes out, his eyes starting to tear up and redden. "The saints hate me."

"No they don't. Just look at the bright side," Dash put a comforting hand on Helm's chilled shoulder. "With the money we'll make off my share, you can buy new boobs."

Helm stopped sniveling for but a moment, slightly confused by his companion's attempt to cheer him up. "What? Just the boobs?"

"No, no, no, silly," he laughed. "The real beauty about it is we'll be able to afford a woman to go with them!"

Helm's face flattened, but he no longer seemed sad. "You're a strange, _strange_ man. Brilliant...but strange."

"I know." Dash's response, the way he nodded, seemed to telegraph that he'd heard that before. Many times in fact. "Still, we need to get moving. It's long trip back home." It was. They still needed to pass through the remained of this area, called the Switchback, then the Dreadwood, and after that was the Sepulcher. It was a stretch taking up the better portion of twenty five miles.

"Fine. Do you mind driving? I'm going to curl into a ball and cry for a while." Helm sighed.

"Not at all. But don't let it get you down, Helm. Our day's coming."

"Wake me when it does."

It didn't take long for the bondsman to find the corpses. Sniffing them out was all too easy despite them having gone long since cold. He checked the bodies closely, took in the details of their deaths by sight and touch. It was difficult for him to believe a human was capable of this, very difficult. He had been brought up to wholeheartedly believe that humans were frail creatures, incapable of overpowering a vampire simply because they were a weaker breed. However, the smear of blood around the mouth of his brother's disembodied head changed his mind. He smelled it, smudged some on the pad of one finger to put against his tongue. Iron rich, spine tingling in its lingering flavor; the taste was unmistakeable.

Now he was able to pick up a faint trail, tiny droplets of blood hidden beneath the snow that reeked of mortality. Were it not for sunrise he would have been able to smell it right away. He would follow it, eagerly licking at his fangs as he ascended to snowy slopes of the mountain. He would find this human and destroy it, make it suffer for thinking itself so mighty as to fell three of his brother's and run away without thought of consequence.

He would follow the scent until near sundown, having lost it several times as he went through the pass. It would simply disappear, no traces of blood for several yards or more, but he would pick it up again in time. With his being one of the best trackers in his brood, it was a minor set back, only costing him perhaps an hour in all. It was mid afternoon when he could see Oerba through the gathering gales. The blizzard was making another run on the tiny village, threatening to bury it entirely. He thought it best to move in and complete his business before that happened. The vampire stalked the village until the sun began to set, biding his time until dark as well as making note of where his target was hiding.

One little human, and a woman at that.

His brothers should not have died, and he was determined to rectify this egregious error.

Just as soon as darkness fell.

He waited in the cold, stock still in his place until the perfect moment. Night descended and he began to move, crawling on his hands and feet, silent as a plague. The vampire curled his body, all muscles taught as he eased over the edge of the roof he had perched upon. Everything he saw was now upside down, but that failed to disorient him. The pearl slits in his pitch eyes flexed at the glimmer of firelight, forgoing the typical hypnosis to focus on his quarry. There she was, huddled in a pile of blankets near the flames. He could smell fresh blood, perhaps a still open wound. He would be sure to find it.

With the sun now set he had access to all of his inherent abilities. The humans often called his kind ghosts for their inhuman powers to not only seem to disappear and reappear, but to scale structures without aid. It was almost magic.

He didn't even need his claws as he crawled through the opening in the wall just large enough for him to fit through. He began to skulk about the ceiling without a sound. There was no chance she knew he was there, as if he were little more than a shadow. With a slow, silent hand he reached for the serrated knife in his belt, relieving it of its sheath with only the slightest brush of leather against steel. The blade resembled a crescent moon with fangs, the teeth meant to grip and tear out the insides of anything unfortunate enough to be impaled with it. He took the handle of it between his teeth, freeing up his hand to allow him to move just a few inches closer.

He crouched on the ceiling, knees bent and his arms out, it was like he didn't believe in gravity. Then he pounced.

Fang had been drifting in and out of sleep, stumbling through blurs of dreams for hours. All of her senses were dull, any movement she made sluggish and ill directed. She couldn't feel the heavy throbbing of her injuries. So one could imagine the magnitude of the vampire's sudden appearance. It was a shock to the system, like turning on the lights before your eyes are ready. A hard muscled arm circled her neck and squeezed, the angle just right to put an unreal amount of pressure on the base of her skull. Her face flushed with heat as circulation dwindled and she was already on the verge of blacking out. Her back arched, her body thrashing in a desperate attempt to pull free.

"Such a fragile...pretty thing," his voice was serpentine and hushed. "It's a shame you're only human."

In dwindling awareness Fang caught glimpse of a silvery glint, something caught the light. It came into focus as the dagger and she tensed at the wickedness of its design. She struggled harder against the vampire's hold, but to no avail.

"So where should I start?" he let the blade hover below one naked breast, then he lifted it. "Perhaps here, right between the eyes, like you did to my brother?"

Her heart rate spiked as her wild blue eyes fixed on the weapon. If he chose to use it, there was very little she could do to stop him.

The knife fell lower. "Or maybe I'll slit your throat and end it quickly. No...that wouldn't be fair."

Then it drifted lower.

And lower.

"How about I start here?" and a smile stretched across his mouth to show all of his teeth. "Lay you wide open,"

Fang flinched as the tip of the knife rested against the inside of her bare thigh. She had to fight her instincts to hold still, knowing that one false move could prove disastrous.

"But what's this?" he sneered, his breath frigid against her ear. "Did brother scratch you? Tisk, tisk...he should've cut you deeper." That sneer turned into a snarl as he raised the blade, pointing the hooked tip of towards the claw marks on her stomach. "At least it was just deep enough."

Fang couldn't turn her head to see what he was about to do, but she felt it plain enough. The vampire forced the knife into the wound, not too far, and then pulled upward. Now the curled blade was hooked through the two once smaller cuts. Blood began to trickle down her side as she bit her lip against a scream, her eyes screwed shut from the intense pain. And he only kept pulling, just enough tension not to rip the skin but to keep the hurt fresh.

The pungent smell of fresh blood was making him high. He almost didn't want to kill her, but that indecision was short lived. She would die, most certainly, but not until he was finished playing with her. He gave the blade a firm jerk, ripping it through the bit of skin that held it in place. It was not a clean cut, and Fang felt every single tooth on the knife as it tore its way out. She couldn't hold in the scream that erupted.

The vampire found a sick thrill out of what he was doing. His heart rate was up, adrenaline going wild in his veins, and he could feel the gums around his fangs tingling. It wasn't often that he was able to let his prey linger. He had no idea until now how fun it could be. What a power trip. He held the knife against her side, letting blood gather on the flat edge. He needed a taste, just a little.

Fang felt sick, her stomach tight and twisting at the barbs of red hot agony tearing through her. She could just barely see and her whole body was starting throb. The only relief at the moment was the loosening grip of his arm around her throat. She was able to turn her head and watch him licking his knife clean.

This was her chance.

With one hand still pulling against his arm she reached up with other, taking hold of his wrist and giving a sharp pull downwards as he had the tip of the knife pointed towards his tongue to catch one last crimson drop. He began screaming madly as it ripped through his mouth and out the bottom of his jaw. He let go, falling onto his back as his hands reached for the weapon.

Fang scrambled to her feet, reaching for her lance which was only a few feet away. She gripped it in both hands and turned, lunging for the vampire just as he was starting to pull the knife out. The bladed tip struck true, piercing his chest and forcing him across the floor and against the wall with her momentum. He expired slowly, clutching the spear as he choked on his own blood. She refused to even think about lessening her grip or stepping away until he stopped moving, his eyes vacant with death. She pulled the spear out, took several tired steps back, and then slumped to her knees.

"Teach you to get the jump on me," she panted, her hand at her side and her forehead resting against the lance, "schmuck."

One thing was for certain now. It was no longer safe to stay here. There was no telling how many more of them would be on their way. She needed to leave as soon as possible, but first she just wanted to rest. Just for a minute. She felt so tired.

Fang passed out and remained where she was for the next few hours, until just before dawn came. The fire had died some time during the night, allowing the room to get cold again. She woke up shivering, stiffly standing and using her lance for support to get around. Her clothes were dry but cold, and she shivered hard as she dressed. It made her dread setting foot outside, hearing the wind whistle through the village.

Before she left she stopped one last time to look over what was left of her late-night intruder. She'd never seen anything like him in her entire life.

Bleached skin, jet black hair with tattoos on his face and body of the same color, talons on the tips of his fingers; none of this could be natural. She could see the tips of his fangs behind his half parted lips, and the thin white slit immersed in the black of his eyes was otherworldly.

"What are you, you sick son of a bitch?" and she frowned at him. "Good riddance anyway." And she snatched up a blanket from the floor to drape around her shoulders before stepping out into the godless cold.

It was still dark and she worked her way to the outskirts, a flurry of thoughts passing through her mind at once as she walked.

Where would she go now? Where more of those things hunting her? Was she going to survive this weather? And they just piled up until she lost track of one from the other. Still, in spite of this, the foremost concern for Fang had remained unchanged.

Vanille.

At this point all she could do was pray she was all right. There had been no sign of her. Fang had to tell herself repeatedly that everything would turn out all right just to keep the worry from overwhelming her. If she was going to make it, she couldn't afford for that to happen.

Fang pressed on, considering there was little else she could do with the circumstances being what they were. She figured she would be in good standing if she could make it to the root of Taejin's Tower before nightfall. However, taking into account how poor she felt already, having only just begun, that might have been pushing it.

While crossing the Ashensands she paused, dwelling near the edge of the trail that broke into a sheer drop of several hundred feet to the nearest ground. The snowfall wasn't so thick to impair her view into the valley below, the Archylte Steppe she was sure. And, once she was able to make it out in the dimness, her heart sank at the sight of Cocoon.

By the gods, what had happened?

She only lingered a moment longer, knowing well she didn't have time to waste. Fang set her mind to making it as far as Cocoon. Chances were good that if there were survivors of its fall, that they would be able to help her. And she needed all the help she could get.

_(II)_

It was the first time the sun had been out in three days, the sky clear and free of clouds. It had been snowing heavily all that time, and finally the storm had moved on further south.

Gurthang must have sense the improvement of the weather, as he was all a tizzy. He wanted to go out, caring very little whether or not his master did. He pawed at Shepherd as he slept on the couch, pulled the blanket away and crawled over him. Shepherd simply rolled over, ignoring his persistent pooch. The he started barking, not as loud as he could, but loud enough to where he knew his master could hear. When that didn't work, Gurthang grabbed the hem of Shepherd's loincloth and pulled. That woke him well enough.

Shepherd growled and groaned, swatting at Gurthang with his hand as he sat up. He had a taste of stale tobacco in his mouth, having fallen asleep with the pipe again. He looked at Gurthang through the stray strands of hair hanging over his eyes, warmed by the excitement in the animal's eyes. The dog pranced off, only to return with the harness for the sleigh in his mouth.

His face twisted as if to ask "You're serious?"

And he was.

Finally he relented, standing up and putting on his thickest winter clothes, and all the while Gurthang jumped and yipped with with tail whipping behind him. After dressing he brought down the sled from its harness on the wall, setting it down beside the table, and hitched Gurthang up. Before they could leave, much to the dog's whining, Shepherd went down into the root cellar to check on the animals. He had to move them into the somewhat cramped space because of the storm, or else he would have lost the lot of them. Mind you it was a little odd driving a herd of animals through the house to the cellar door at the back corner, but it was well worth it.

With the sheep and chocobos fed and cleaned up after, he could grab his ax and travel bag and take Gurthang outside. The dog yanked the sled out the door, plowing through a plentiful drift of snow until he came out the other side. Shepherd simply followed in the gaping hole he left behind. He noticed no crows on his roof, which he took as a good omen.

"_Heh'tet_," He called for Gurthang to stay once he came out into the open pasture, the snow knee deep. He continued to talk to the dog as he checked the harness one last time, exciting him even further. The animal was more like a small child ready for an outing with daddy. Shepherd then went to the rear of the sled, gripping the rim of the frame tightly with one foot on the runner. And the command was given, sending Gurthang into a run.

It was easier, therefore more fun for Gurthang to pull the sleigh once they were out on the open steppe. The area was more exposed to the wind which blew away the fresh powdery snow, leaving the compacted snow beneath it. Not that it bothered the dog. He'd pull the sleigh through mud if it suited him.

Shepherd was enjoying it too. It was nice to get out of the house and away from the farm once in a while. It lifted his spirits, though he rarely noticed it. He would easily forget how light his heart felt, or that he smiled during the entirety of the ride beneath the scarf. He was a creature of habit, but dwelling on happiness was not one of those habits. Still, he savored it in his own way.

Gurthang pulled him along at full tilt all across the steppe, from the Eastern Tors to the Central Expanse, and all the way out to the Western Benchland, and liked to have hit every bump and small hill on the way. Shepherd almost fell off several times, and it was due to such a narrow miss that he demanded the dog stop a moment. He stepped off the sled, reaching into his small leather bag for a piece of dried meat to give the dog.

"_Hei'bin_," he said, patting Gurthang's head. Roughly translated it meant "good boy".

Shepherd straightened, pulling down the scarf to take in an unhindered breath. The chill gave him goosebumps. He looked out over the steppe, reveling in the isolation in a way he couldn't at home. Funny how a change of scenery affects a man.

His gaze fell over the benchland's border to the Northern Highplain and focused on something moving. He tracked it for a few seconds, unable to fully decipher what it was. He narrowed his eyes, picking up a diffused gray shape, astonished as it multiplied into five. The shapes passed behind a hill, and come out the other side chasing another shape, this one seemed blue in color. This struck him as odd, nothing of such coloration would be on the stepped this time of year.

Out of sheer curiosity he called Gurthang and mounted the sleigh again, urging the dog on so he might have a closer look.

Fang thought she'd made it out of hell as she set foot out onto the steppe, thought she was through the worst of it. With the sodden blanket still across her back she started across the Northern Highplain, Cocoon now that much closer. She was exhausted, hungry, and freezing cold. If she didn't reach her destination by nightfall, she was fairly sure she wouldn't make it all. Her strength was nearly gone.

Or at least that's what she thought. It's amazing what one can do over a threat to one's life.

She didn't see them, most likely wouldn't have been able to were she to look. They were too well camouflaged to hide in the snow for hardly anything to see them.

Uridimmu. A pack of them. They were on the hunt, left near starving after the storm. They smelled the dried blood, heard the staggering footsteps of what they most likely thought was a wounded animal. They weren't that far off.

At first they only stalked, steadily widening their formation to block off any escape route their prey might take. Then their pace increased to a steady creep. That's when Fang realized they were there. She knew better than to run, knew these beasts were chase predators, but what other choice did she have? Once more she was stuck between a hard place and a sharp object. And once again that sharp object was teeth. Somehow she was able to reach deep down and pull out the will to run, dropping the blanket and going at a full, albeit uneven sprint.

Like I said. Chase predators, and that's exactly what they did.

She knew she couldn't out run them, even on her best day it wasn't possible. But she wasn't about to just stand there, not that she could take them if she had. However they would kill her once they caught her anyhow, she would just die tired. It was just too much, and she almost had the feeling that she was only prolonging the inevitable.

There was no making a miracle this time.

She felt the first bite on her ankle, just a half-missed nip that wanted to be deep gash when it grew up. Then something grabbed hold of the tail of her sari and she hit the ground, the cold stab of snow against her body. She twisted onto her back, reaching for her spear, her joints protesting against the sudden movement. Fang managed to raise the blades of the weapon just in time for an Uridimmu to pounce, impaling itself through the neck. Its great weight pulled down, wrenching it from her weakened grip. The other dogs were quick to follow suit now that their prey had nowhere else to go, no other way to fight back. She made one last desperate attempt to move, crawling on her hands and knees, only to make it a few feet before she felt the first set of powerful jaws closing onto flesh.

Shepherd felt his pulse quicken as he drew closer to the pack of Uridimmu, realizing exactly what was going on. He had already guessed they were hunting, simply mother nature at work, but had no idea what it was they were chasing. When it was clear that their target was human, he reacted and urged Gurthang faster as he reached for his ax. When they were close enough he jumped from the sled running, reaching for the clasp that kept the harness connected to undo it. The closure popped open.

"_Tet'tet_, Gurthang!" basically translated? Sic'em.

The animal sprang into a maddening stride, snarling and barking. He was a missile with fur. He ripped into the nearest Uridimmu teeth first, tearing away at the tough hide. Shepherd wasn't too far behind his companion, the ax held high as he leaped into the writhing mess of monsters.

The first fell beneath the chopping blade as it buried into the tight fold where the Uridimmu's skull met its neck, splitting the spinal column in half. It slumped onto its side once the weapon was pulled free. Another latched onto Shepherd's arm, pulling and thrashing its head in attempts to tear through to flesh, refusing to let go. He took that tenacity to his advantage, having the brute strength to swing his arm in such a fashion that he slammed to animal to the ground. He did it again and again until it finally let go, leaving only minor tears in his sleeve.

Two more lunged at him then, one jumping high with claws outstretched and the other latching onto the back of his leg. The one bit down only on his cloak, but began to pull in earnest once it was on the ground, pulling him off balance as the other was chewing through his boot. The third then appeared out of nowhere, diving with open jaws to clench around his empty shoulder. That hurt like hell.

Shepherd swung the ax hard, crowning the beast between the eyes with a crimson split forming down to its nose. He then used the edge of the blade to undo the clasp holding his cloak in place allowing him to sit up and address the increasingly painful mauling at his leg. He gave the dog one good kick to the mouth, breaking several of its piercing teeth, which seemed to only piss it off. It jumped back only to retaliate just as fast. The force of the collision had the human on his back, the Uridimmu's jaws threatening to close around his throat. He raised his arm out of instinct, offering up his wrist as a pacifier instead of his tender neck.

Gurthang sprang to help his master, jumping onto the other creature's back and gnashing on its back, mindful of the bony spines that were so characteristic of the species. Even a prick from one of them would put you in a world of hurt, toxins often transferred through the tips of them.

Shepherd was able to roll out from beneath them, onto his belly and face to face with the largest of the pack. He started push himself away from it, but not fast enough. With one swipe of the beast's massive paw it broke his nose and flayed the skin, blood gushing down his face as he fought against the hot burn of tears.

He rolled onto his back, his arm bent over his face, and he began to struggle against the sharp press of claws on his chest. He swung the ax again, hoping for the best.

The blade hit the Uridimmu in the face, but at an awkward angle. Its single blade cut straight until it hit bone, then veered upward to scrape off a slab of skin. At that the wild dog decided to flee, only one other limping off in retreat. The other three were dead.

Gurthang went to his master, licking his face and whimpering as if worried. Shepherd assured him with a pat on the head and pressing his forehead to the dog's nose. He praised his companion with stroking and quiet thanks, trying to catch his breath and making mental note of the few scratches Gurthang had on his back and paws.

Shepherd stood, wiping the blood away from around his mouth, sick of the taste. The he turned, watching as Gurthang bounded away to stand over what the Uridimmu had intended to eat. He let his ax settle in place on his belt as he followed, kneeling down. He pulled his glove off with his teeth, putting his naked hand to her skin to find it cold to the touch; it came as a shock that she was still breathing. If he had been but a moment later in arriving, she wouldn't be. Her entire body was pocked with welts and deep bites, and there was exposed bone from a broken leg that had been crushed by mighty jaws.

He didn't waste another minute. He gave Gurthang the command to fetch, making the dog go running for the sled as he pulled off his long coat. Thankfully he wore another sheepskin shirt beneath it, keeping the chill away as he draped the coat over her. As Gurthang pulled up the sleigh, he reached into his travel bag, pulling out a small bottle with something blue sloshing around inside it. He held it between his teeth until he and Gurthang managed her onto the sled, then he popped the cork.

Fang could just barely register the warm, wet sensation against her cheek. It came and went with the scent of dog breath. Then there was a pressing against her lips, which parted on their own. Something liquid eased down her throat, something that, she noticed, made her feel somewhat better. It took the edge off everything she was feeling. Then consciousness left her again.

Shepherd tied the harness back in place, running to retrieve his cloak and the woman's spear before giving the sleigh a push and jumping onto the runners as Gurthang pulled with all his strength. Hopefully the potion would be enough to keep her alive until he found help, and the nearest help was a few miles away at the settlement. He didn't know who she was, where she came from, but he prayed she would make it.

_(–)_

"The snow will melt on its own," Snow (ironically enough) shrugged, "so why are we shoveling it?"

"I, for one, like to be able to walk out of my house." Lightning tossed aside another hefty portion of powder. "And I'm sure our neighbors would too."

"Then why can't they do it?"

"Stop whining, you're giving me gray hair."

"You sure its not the onset of your next birthday? I think it's just around the corner,"

"Shut up."

And Snow chanced a quiet laugh as he put his head down, getting back to his work. She'd had him out here all morning just shoving this stuff around. Maybe she was suffering from cabin fever, or maybe she just didn't like the idea of him getting too comfortable. Who knew with in-laws, right? Still, to avoid the impending wrath he went along with it, complaining as little as possible. Or at least he liked to think so.

Lightning had been ready to pull her own hair out by the time she realized the storm had broke and the sun came out from behind the clouds. One could imagine her irritation when the door wouldn't open when she first pushed it, enough snow compacted on the other side of to hold it in place. Everyone in the dwelling, Pickles included, watched as she thrashed and abused the door, demanding it open with a flurry of curses. When it finally gave she stood back and nodded, satisfied while seeming to ignore the drift of white that tumbled through the opening. That, and the hushed comment Snow made about his hopes that her language would improve after the baby came.

"Hey, Light,"

She rolled her eyes and she put her foot on the lip of the shovel. "If you make that 'shoveling yourself' joke one more time-,"

"No, no," he interrupted. "Remember that guy you were talking about?"

"I talk about quite a few of those, Snow. You're gonna have to be more specific." she sounded more irritated with every word.

"The last guy you punched in the face other than me."

"Oh yeah, him." she nodded. "Crazy local guy."

"That's the one. Is he tall with dark hair, kinda rough looking?"

"That would be him."

"He got a dog?"

"Yes." it was only then that she became aware of the barking. "Wait a minute," she straightened, turning every which way to see where the barking was coming from. If that dog wasn't trying to sniff her out come hell or high water, there was a chance something was amiss. Red flags started going up in her head as she dropped the shovel and began walking.

"Where are you going?" Snow saw fit to stop a moment, curious.

"I'll be right back." she didn't even turn to speak to him, just kept going. She needed to check this is out, if for no other reason than to satisfy her own anxiety. At first she walked, then she quickened her pace, and this occurred until she was nearly running to Gurthang once she had spotted him.

Gurthang was beside himself, Shepherd having left him outside and still in the harness. He whimpered and even cried, and teethed the rim of the empty sled.

"What's wrong with you?" she knelt down, suddenly out of sync with her own behavior as she chanced to pet him. It stopped his whining, but the look in his eyes still carried his concern. Lightning then noticed the scratches, a reddened smudge on her palm as she pulled away. That was when the mental alarms started sounding off. Without really thinking it through she helped Gurthang out of his harness, nearly falling as the dog took off running. All she could do was follow him as he forced his way into the Resource Center.

Bradley wasn't at his desk and Lightning immediately picked up on the commotion from down the hall. Gurthang went straight to it as if he owned the place. He took the right hallway, starting to bark again after he disappeared around the corner. She came right behind him to find an empty corridor. All the noise was coming from the far end.

Shepherd rounded the corner, his head tilted pack as he pressed a blood-smeared tissue to his nose. A nurse had demanded to take a look at it, but he refused. He didn't need to be babied, he just wanted to sit down so everything would stop moving. The see-saw feeling in his head combined with the heavy throbbing in his empty shoulder was threatening to make him sick. The barking that only seemed to get louder pierced his ears, rattling his whole frame with bursts of offensive sound. He lost his balance, putting his hand to brace against the thick aluminum wall as his long coat slipped off his arm.

He could feel it coming. Yup. He was going to hurl.

Just as the bile was rising, sinking to his knees, he felt something tugging upward on his shirt. When he realized he wasn't going to fall, he pushed himself to stand.

"You okay?"

He nodded without a thought, not registering the voice. When he lifted his head, his vision settled for a moment, he stiffened.

Lightning hadn't expected an answer from him, but certainly not the look on his face when he appeared to realize she was there. It was a staggered mixture of confusion and...mild terror?

Shepherd pulled away, yanking the tanned material from her grip. His own lingered over the spot she held, as if to cover a gaping wound, or perhaps he felt like her touch had burned him.

"Hey," she noticed the fresh gashes on his face, noticing a slight tinge of green among the bruising. "That looks like it's gone toxic." and, maybe out of some unusually tender reflex, she reached up.

His hand snapped around her wrist before she could lay a finger on him, and then let go just as suddenly. He bent down for his coat and walked on, trying his damnedest not to stumble in his hurry.

She watched him disappear around the corner, Gurthang following at a brisk trot, with her hand at her wrist to sooth away the lingering pressure. Man had a strong grip, like a frightened child. His reaction to her only strengthened her assumption that he was just strange as strange could be. With no more reason to pause, she continued down the corridor to see what was really going on.

There was Bradley, leaning casually against the wall with a pen and clipboard in his hand. A typical behavior for him, but what made Light curious was his location. Why was he outside the infirmary? He must have heard her footsteps as he lifted his head, adjusting his glasses to see her properly.

"Farron," his usual greeting, "had a feeling you'd be coming by."

Now she stood in front of him. "What's all this about?"

"From what I've heard so far, there was an attack out on the highplain," he started writing again. "Shepherd brought in the victim."

She nodded, having most of her questions answered with that one sentence. "How bad is it?" She could hear noises from behind the door, a mess of sound that was almost startling.

"Nothing too serious, but there's more to it than that."

Light lifted one eyebrow, a way of begging for the details.

"We found a set of bite marks like the ones on the volunteers. Just one pair, but they're consistent and not fresh enough to coincide with this attack."

"Have you questioned them?" her arms crossed, one foot tapping in an almost nervous manner.

"Haven't been able to." he finally looked away from his papers to show a sober expression. "The woman was going into hypothermic shock by the time I was able to get down here, and from what I saw I would say they're dealing with heavy blood loss, too. It'll be a miracle if she survives."

Another flag went up in her head, and for some unknown reason her chest tightened. She looked to the door, staring holes into it, thoughts crossing back and forth in her mind. This simply couldn't be a random occurrence, someone appearing by chance with these markings. Or could it? There was such a thing as random chance, but then there was that hideous, gut twisting, four letter word...

Fate.

Gods forbid.

"Can you get me in there?"

"Hell, I can't even get _me_ in there." He sounded exasperated, but a little impressed by the fact. "I'm just taking down notes for my report." Bradley's brow suddenly flattened. "I know that look, Farron, and you are _not_ busting in."

Okay, yeah, he caught her, but she didn't have to admit a damn thing. All of her instincts were telling her to ignore him, to do as she pleased; however, along with Bradley, reason intervened. Only a total cock-muncher would interrupt medical personnel to satisfy their own uneasy curiosity.

He could tell she was thinking it over, and most likely leaning toward the wrong decision. He needed to distract her, and fast.

"Now that I think of it," he started, clearing his throat, "there's something I want you to look at."

Lightning bit her lip and did so, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. She followed him back to his desk, standing in front of it with her arms crossed and foot tapping once again.

"Shepherd brought this in along with the victim. I've never seen anything like it; I thought with your military background you would have an idea."

A split second glance. That's all it took.

Black and crimson steel, twining blades, Pulsian lettering in fine gold. She knew exactly what the clerk was holding. She took it from him without a word, holding it end over end in one hand.

"Clearly a weapon, yeah?" Bradley looked over his glasses.

"Yeah." her answer was hushed, almost reverent as she cradled it now in both hands.

"I had guessed, just...something like this just doesn't get used anymore. Just wanted a second opinion."

It was an understandable uncertainty. It was a tool from a long bygone era, a long bygone home.

"What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

In a way that was almost true. She had never expected to see this lance ever again, but now she had it in her hands, felt its weight pulling. It was real. But, she realized with a body tensing tremor, so was the possibility of it being orphaned. Her chest tightened again, this time tighter, the pain like a razor. It was slowly, steadily morphing into a deep rooted worry that bordered on fear, the kind that made you want to hide in a corner and chew on your fingers while you rock back and forth. It threatened total shut-down.

Bradley watched, humbled at the rare show of emotion. Up until this point, in spite of the time he'd known her, he wasn't too certain she even had feelings. Most military types didn't, or at least had so much control over them they might as well not. It was strange to see.

"Farron," he sounded more curious than concerned, "do you know the victim?"

She nodded, having no words at that moment. Then, somewhat heavily, "Fang's my best friend." and there was a telling tightness in her throat. It ruined her near deified status in Bradley's mind, made her seem human, but it only served to drive his desire to reach out to her.

"Hey," he started gently. "You can stay here if you want, I'll go let your family know where you are."

Lightning tried to force down that horrible vulnerability she was showing. "No, no, I'd only be in the way."

"It's fine, really, I need a few minutes away from this thing anyway." and he thumped the tip of his boot against his desk before reaching for his jack. "I'll be back. My assistant is running around here somewhere, you can tell him if you need anything." and then he was gone, not thinking to wait for a show of gratitude.

Lightning did want to thank him, but the words wouldn't come and it felt like she was miles away. The idea of helplessness often did that to her, forced her to detach herself from the situation so she wouldn't have to feel it. It was a defense mechanism that she had never learned to live without, but it wasn't working so well this time. The frailty was keen and inescapable. She could feel physical weakness starting to settle in, and relented to sit down in Bradley's vacant chair.

Lightning curled her hands around the spear, fingers lacing tight together with her forehead resting just above them. Her body was curled forward, elbows on knees, and she felt as pitiful as she thought she must have looked.

Author's Note: Things are going a little more smoothly now, but as far as the integrity of the text goes, I still feel like I'm sucking wind. Why this is so difficult, I haven't a clue, but I don't intend to stop working on it. Maybe, just maybe, once I'm finished with this portion of violent drama and get into the transition for the next, it'll get flowing. I'm really giving my best, I just don't feel like it's showing. Oh well. Maybe it's my sentence structure getting too repetitive. I'll figure it out, and once I do, I'm going to rip this wide open. Thanks for reading so far, and I hope you'll enjoy the next installment.


	7. Chapter VI

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Six**

The crows were back. Gods damn those hideous things.

Shepherd scattered a small murder of them off the sled after hitching Gurthang once again, and it angered him, as if the growing migraine wasn't enough. He was beginning to feel like things were starting to topple over on top of him, although he couldn't fully understand why. Before stepping on the runners he took another bottle from his bag, ripping out the stopper and knocking back the contents. Until the antidote went completely through his system he was going to feel like this, dizzy and nauseous.

He stumbled through the door, tugging the unhitched sled behind him, letting it lay in the middle of the floor when it slipped from his hand. He needed to lie down and the sofa seemed miles away. It was god awful hot, making him rip his shirt off his back, tossing it away. Sweat was rolling down his face, stinging the open lacerations. Shepherd made it to the dinning table before his knees gave out and he hit the floor, rolling onto his back.

Gurthang whimpered as he nudged his master with his nose, licking him once. He stepped away and then came back with the blanket from the couch, draping it over the human. He nestled down close beside him, resting his head on his heaving chest. Shepherd rolled onto his side and draped his arm across the dog's back, holding his companion like a stuffed animal for security.

His thoughts were scattered, in pieces, chaotic in their order, and the screeching of crows were phantom echoes alongside them. It was like fever dreaming, where nothing makes sense but the images are clear as day and just as real, and your brain felt on the verge of nuclear meltdown. The pounding through his entire body simply refused to cease.

Thankfully sleep came quickly and without his notice, and despite the toxins running through him, the dreams were typical. One in particular that he didn't have as often as others. It was the night he lost his arm.

_The smell of dirt and stagnant air was oppressive, just like the heavy steel manacle around his neck. He lay face down, nose crushed against the ground as lifted dust and debris made him choke. He could feel the muscles and soft tissue in his left arm being pulled, stretched tight, threatening to snap. A tiny flicker of a voice in his head told him again and again they would surely tear apart. But his mind had yet to realize they already had.  
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_ Sizable stones had fallen on his head, splitting his scalp and hindering his consciousness to a threadbare awareness. Flecks of blood dotted his face, smeared with dirt, and a warm pool of it was gathering beneath his head. It flowed from the crushed shoulder, the limb that had once been there was now buried under the unforgiving rubble of a massive tunnel collapse. The sheer weight of the toppling stones acted like a guillotine._

_ He faded in and out of conscious, laying there for perhaps an hour before being found. He was pushed callously onto his back, prodded for signs of life. Somehow he had survived. He had opened his eyes, looking up to see the slitted eyes of the overseer glaring down at him in what appeared to be disgusted disappointment; maybe the vampire hadn't wanted him to live._

And, in a way, neither had he.

Shepherd woke in the middle of the night in an abrupt motion to sit up, Gurthang's head slipping from atop his neck. The dog only stirred, seeming more than content where he was. He reached for the edge of the table in the darkness and pulled himself up to stand. He eased into the repaired chair, weaving his hand into his hair as he hunched forward. His head was clearer now, and with the hot barbs of pain from the poison soothed away he was finally able to think properly.

It was strange how he didn't feel very proud about having saved that strange woman's life. You'd think he would. He was far too curious, as well as troubled, to feel proud. The color of the sari she wore, the tattoo, the weapon, all of it was familiar yet impossible. It reminded him of home, of stories he heard growing up, of everything he lost.

The tribes of Pulse were, more often than not, distinguished not just by their territory, but by the color of their garments. Each of them were different, with varying shades of their chosen color dictating the social standing within the tribe. And tattoos were just as telling; a symbol could explain something so simple as your occupation, or so personal as betrothal. The weapon you carried wasn't nearly as significant, but it was still a piece of the puzzle.

Everything was fitting together for Shepherd with the exception of the color. He knew what clan that sari came from, but had been told they died out hundreds of years ago. Could the elders of his youth have been wrong? Was it possible that there was yet a survivor to the lost tribe of Oerba? But how? Perhaps, he considered with restrained anxiety, if she pulled through he would be able to find out. Thoughts were pushing for his attention as he continued to sit, picking at the scab starting to form over the cuts on his face.

Something else was bothering him, though. Big surprise there. Rest assured you would only need perhaps two guesses to figure out what it is.

His hand moved from his face to his chest, resting over the place where Lightning's hand had touched through his shirt as she helped him find his balance. There was no certainty as to how he felt about it. He hadn't felt the touch of a woman in sixteen years and, to be honest, he didn't know how to respond. It had stunned him, scared him, confused the living shit out of him. There was no like or dislike, just...what the hell.

Thank the gods he hadn't allowed her to touch his face. It was clear enough that she had meant to, and now that he addressed it he could only shake his head. Gods only knew what that would have done to him. He shut his eyes, head resting in his hand as he thought back to it, able to replay it in his mind with staggering clarity. The expression softened with mild concern, and her eyes...there was tenderness in them, something that threatened to stop his heart.

The image of Lightning was slowly replaced with that of his wife, which only served to cause him more pain than the poison ever could.

_(–)_

Light woke to the feel of something tapping her shoulder. Her head lifted from its resting place against her shoulder and her eyes blinked open.

"Morning."

Lightning felt a crackle of discomfort up her back as she straightened, looking up to see Bradley standing there. His hair was mussed like he'd just rolled out of bed, his face blue with stubble, and he held a paper cup of coffee in each hand.

"Don't you _ever_ go home?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Bradley laughed, handing over one of the cups when she reached for it. "I have a mattress under my desk."

"Christ, man," she shook her head, taking a cautious sip. "What time is it?"

"Just after sunrise." he pressed his back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor beside her.

For a moment the two were quiet, drinking coffee as they sat in the hallway just outside the infirmary. Lightning had been there all night, staring at the paper sign on the door that said in bold red letters "12 hour quarantine" until she finally fell asleep but a few hours ago.

"Spoke to one of the doctors working the case," Bradley began, "he said her chances were pretty good. Seventy percent at best."

Seventy percent? They had actually put a number on the likely hood of her friend's survival? It was almost disgusting how detached the concept of a number could make you feel. Fucking doctors.

"That's not good enough."

"It's the best they could do, Farron." he shook his head, almost able to feel her displeasure radiating. "All things considered, it could be a hell of a lot worse."

She knew that, of course she did, but she didn't have to like it. "Did you finish your report?"

"Not yet, I'm getting there. One of the doctors was talking about a medication regimen and hasn't gotten back to me yet. If he does I'll have to make a requisition for it."

"Medication for what?" Light's face twisted.

"Infection." he took another sip. "According to them her immune system is in the toilet and can't fight it off; hence the quarantine. But, like I said, there's nothing definite about it yet."

Light wasn't sure whether to let her heart sink, like it was already, or to be angry. Helplessness was never something she could address and deal with effectively, and she hated how this situation was forcing her to.

"This is really messing with you, isn't it?" Bradley squinted through his glasses, maybe he still hadn't adjusted to the light in the hallway.

She only nodded, trying in vain to take a drink from an empty cup.

"So who is she?"

Light thought about it for a long while, taking into consideration how she should explain it. Of course she couldn't tell him everything, but...

"She's like a sister to me." more like a twin really. In the short time they had known one another, Light was able to realize just how much she and Fang were alike. She had found a kindred spirit in Fang, a warrior trying to protect those she loved. And like Fang, Lightning realized that she could be stubborn in her mission to do so. But most importantly, Fang was someone who understood her in ways no one else did. "We've had to be separated for a long time."

"Well, if it's anything like the relationship you have with your other sister," Bradley was grinning, "I can see why this is such a big deal for you. Is there anything I can do?"

"A refill?" and she let her hand drift in his direction.

"Sure." and he got up with a grunt, walking in the direction of the coffee maker that was back by his desk. Light almost smiled a moment after finding herself alone. Bradley was a good man, better than she gave him credit for.

It took him a little longer to return that she expected, the better portion of a half hour. When he finally did come back, he wasn't alone. Two men were with him now, one was Snow, and the other was most likely a doctor as Bradley was speaking with him, clipboard in hand to take notes. But no coffee.

"What are you doing here?" Lightning asked as she stood up, pushing downward on her clothes to smooth out the creases.

"I wanted to check up on you." But his expression hinted at another reason. His brow was low over his icy blue eyes. "Brad told me what happened, is it true?" there was anxiety as well as hope in his hushed tone.

Lightning stepped away from the wall, not saying a word as she revealed the lance. She had kept it beside her all night. She saw his eyes widen, heard his breath hitch, thinking she must have looked the same way.

Snow then went sober. "What could this mean, Light?"

She chewed on the inside of her bottom, not sure how to answer. "I don't know. I'm getting a feeling that it's connected, though."

"How so?"

"They found marks that match those on the bodies brought back from ground zero. Whatever did them in tried to get her too." she could feel her jaw tightening at that realization.

Snow shrugged after a moment and shook his head. "Why do I feel like we're headed for a big fat mess?"

Lightning had never seen Snow as a very insightful person, but she sensed that he was on to something. Rationale shoved its way in front as she opened her mouth to speak.

"If there's going to be any sort of mess, I'll be damned if its going to be 'we'. Regardless of what happens, your ass is staying here."

"Now wait just a minute," Snow put his fists on his hips to object.

"Don't argue with me." she cocked up an authoritative eyebrow.

"Folks, if I may," Bradley interjected, "I hate to ruin the family meeting, but I thought you would like to know that the good doctor has revoked the quarantine. You can go in if you'd like."

The debate stopped immediately. Smack-down averted.

"I need to go finish my report; try not to kill one another, okay?" and then the clerk was gone. Snow and Light watched him leave, not moving until he disappeared.

Snow reached the door first, his hand turning the knob and pulling it open slow enough that one would think something was bound to jump out from behind it. Light resisted the urge to shove him aside, at the very least tell him to hurry the hell up. Thankfully Snow allowed her inside first once he had pulled it wide enough to pass through. Before doing the same he snatched the lance from its resting place, not feeling right just leaving it there.

The infirmary was dark, the few lights in the room dimmed down, and it was warm to the point of smothering. Space heaters were running silently on the floor to keep the temperature level. Too warm for them, but necessary for the well-being of the only patient.

Lightning held her breath as she stepped quietly up to the side of the bed. Snow was right behind her, but she didn't much notice him. All of her focus had converged on the face of her once lost companion, now marred by injury and the pallor of sickness. A tightness formed in her throat to match the sensation in her chest, her heart sank into her boots.

It was easy to see that Fang was sleeping soundly, be it from weakness or the medication being forced into her through the IV in the back of one hand. Blankets were pulled up to her neck, covering the full reality of her condition from her visitors, covering the bandages and stitches and the cast on one leg. Hiding the reddening onset of frostbite.

The feeling of impotence was sinking in again. She could only stand there, hands idle, unable to do a damn thing but watch. She resisted the impulsive notion to chew on her tongue, out of nerves perhaps, knowing if she indulged it she would draw blood. There was also empathy, another emotion she was never good at managing. She was a reactive creature, instinctively driven to find a way to remove the cause of such feelings instead of face them. But instincts were not a valid course of action now.

Snow grimaced, one hand at his chin. "It's hard to see her like this. I mean...I'm glad she's here, but,"

"I know." she didn't need to hear the rest to understand. She was feeling it too. She didn't want for it to be this way either. "I know." and her response sounded heavy.

It was quiet for a long moment with the exception of the machine keeping mindful track of Fang's heartbeat. It was the only element of the room that kept them from feeling like they were in a morgue. Snow moved to the foot of the bed, finding the status sheet hanging from the metal hook on the frame. He didn't understand most of what was on it.

"At least she's stable." he lifted his head after he finished. He saw the heavy expression on Lightning's face and felt his heart twist. "She's going to make it. She's strong."

She had no doubt of that. Now that Light was aware enough of the situation, seen the extent of the damage thus far, she had some confidence that this wasn't nearly as bad as she felt. Still, something wasn't right. What was going to happen next? Why was there this hovering sense of impending upheaval?

"You look exhausted." Snow finally said, having meant to some time ago. "Why don't you go home and rest, I'll stay with her if you want."

"No, I'm staying." her reply was quick, meant to be the end of the discussion. "Serah needs you."

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking hesitant. "You really gotta stop using that against me."

"Get used to it. You're family now so you might as well get comfortable with the feeling of my boot in your backside."

Snow laughed, putting up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. But I'm sending Hope to check on you later."

"If it helps you sleep at night."

And he laughed again, finding her answer to be something he probably should have seen coming. Woman was so damn stubborn, you think he would have learned by now. With that he let Light have her way, quietly leaving after he set the lance against the wall. No point in taking it with him.

Lightning stayed in place for a long while after he left, standing beside the bed and feeling lost. She tried rationalizing her feelings, the things going on, but there was no having it. This is how it was going to be and that was that. No monsters to fight, no Fal'Cie to overthrow, no way to take Fang's place. Perhaps as a way to bring herself a mote of comfort Light reached out, brushing a stray curl of darkened hair from her face. The cut over Fang's eye stood out in the dim light, still swollen and red. It made Light wince.

Eventually she settled onto one of the other empty beds, knees draw up against her chest and held in place by crossed arms. And this is where she remained for the most part, rarely moving, much less leaving the room. She wasn't hungry, thirsty, just didn't have the need to do anything except stand guard. There was the sensation of the world moving around her, everything passing by at break-neck speed while she remained in her pocket of space where time just crawled. It was draining, frustrating.

When Hope did come late that evening, it wasn't immediate that she registered his presence. He had bent down on front of her as she sat on the edge of the vacant bed, waving a slow hand in front of her face until she noticed him.

"Hey, you okay?" Hope looked at her with half a smirk and lifted eyebrow.

"Yeah," she rubbed her eyes, leaning back. "I guess I must've dosed off."

"First time I've ever seen anyone sleep with their eyes open." he laughed a little, sitting on the bed next to her. "Why don't you go home for a while?"

Light shook her head. "I just can't." She felt honor bound to stay. "Wouldn't be able to sleep anyway."

Hope only sighed, aware of the futility of pressing the issue further. She had made up her mind. "Any changes?" he asked, thinking to change the subject.

"No, nothing yet. The doctors come and go...keep telling me she's doing all right." Light sounded half awake, her head resting in her hand.

"Just have some faith. Everything's going to turn out okay."

She found his optimism nigh on sickening as she rubbed her temples against the tension that had started spreading from the back of her neck. It was making him sound like the little boy she once led around by the hand, and that only served to remind her of how much he'd grown, of how much older she was. Curse him for living up to his namesake.

Hope watched her cringe, curious as to what she must've been thinking to cause her face to twist so tightly, the creases in her brow deepening.

"Did that shepherd guy have anything to say?"

Light feigned a laugh. "That's funny."

"Oh. Okay then." and again he thought to change the subject, coming back to something that had been tickling his curiosity since he heard of the attack. "Any sign of Vanille?"

Lightning's eyes snapped open, her head lifting as she sat up straight. Sweet Jesus, how could that not have crossed her mind? There came an abrupt sense of panic, like realizing you just forgot your baby at a bus stop. There had been no signs, no trace, nothing. If there was, only one person would know that and he wasn't talking. The anxiety was steadily taking hold as Lightning could think of fewer and fewer actions to take.

Hope felt himself grow anxious at her dismay. "What can we do?"

"I'm thinking." her fingers curled against her forehead, pulling on several strands of hair until her scalp pinched. She didn't want to tell him how very little could be done, didn't want to see that hidden heartbreak on his face. Still, he needed to understand the reality of it all. "After that storm...the pass to Oerba is probably blocked. If she made it through before hand then I would imagine she would have found her way here by now."

Hope shrugged. She didn't dare look at him and chance seeing that forlorn darkness that had come over his face.

"With that being said," she began again, feeling a little more in control, "we have two options: form a search party and get the word out that Vanille's missing, or wait until spring and entertain the possibility that she didn't come this way at all."

"Does anyone even know what's out there? Passed the mountains, I mean."

"No one I know." she shook her head, finally letting go of her hair. "But we'll manage."

Hope nodded, but didn't actually feel so confident. "What if...what if those things..."

"They didn't." she wouldn't allow him to finish, wanting to consider the idea about as much as he did, which was to say not at all. "And we'll find her before they do."

He wanted to believe that, honest to God, but he was finding it difficult. Something deep down told him that it just wasn't true, that it had no foundation.

"Now who needs a little faith?" she smirked at him, just before she failed to suppress a yawn.

Hope laid his open hand against her back, "Get some sleep. I'll stay up for you."

"I don't need it." she protested, rubbing her eyes.

"Come on, it won't hurt," and he gave her a gentle push, surprised when she went almost willingly onto her side, gathering her legs up. Maybe she really was as tired as she looked. "I'll wake you if something happens."

Lightning remembered trying to continue the argument, convinced she could stay awake, but what she didn't remember was that her attempt came out as a half-coherent ramble. She wasn't an old fart and didn't need some kid putting her to bed, for pity's sake. But she fell asleep all the same, and went straight through the night, rolling over only once.

All the while Hope sat awake like he said, comfortable in a chair he'd found resting in a far corner of the room. He situated it between the two beds, watching over both of them until sunrise, until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and dosed off himself.

Dogs. Her dreams had been full of them, a flurry of shadows with gnashing teeth and gripping claws. Barking and snarling echoed through her feverish mind, and she could almost feel the hot breath of the innumerable hounds on her neck. There was a faint realization of feeling frantic, the need to pull away and flee but without having the strength to do so. No forward motion, no ability to catch your breath, no pass go, no collect two-hundred gil. You sit through the nightmarish haze and pray to the gods it isn't real as you swear to the feeling of fangs pointing into your frail body.

And then she woke.

Awareness came as a startling jolt, a sudden tension all over that forced her hands to clench into half-fists and her breaths to hasten. Both eyes were open, wary, and struggling to force objects into focus. She picked up on the sound of quickened beeping, annoyed at the sound within seconds. And, sweet Christ, was it hot in here; wherever here was. The last thing she could remember was bitter cold and dog breath.

Fang tried to sit up, shoving the blanket away and mindful of the painful pinch and pull of stitches. Her entire body felt heavy, pulled down with weakness and the tingle of morphine. There was a need to scratch everything, and I mean everything. Her skin was livid, but she only scratched warily at the needle in her hand, resisting the faint urge to rip it out.

Fang pushed the blanket further aside, pulling her legs out from under it and easing them over the side of the bed. She eyed the cast, frowning as she lifted it and wiggled her toes just to make sure they still worked. That made her want to assess the rest of the damage. She shook her head at the bruises and bite marks that were still visible, at the bandages on her hands and waist. She looked, and felt, like a right mess to say the least.

But she was alive, and that was more than most had expected.

Standing up, Fang realized, was not possible at the moment. Even the most meager amount of weight on her busted leg was enough to send a white hot spark right through her, making her want to throw up. She had slumped back onto the bed, teeth clenched and quietly swearing as the burning pain lingered on and the limb started to throb. Once that had finally stopped she was able to ask herself that age old question:

_"Where the bleeding hell are my clothes?"_

She was sitting there in her underwear. Maybe the medication kept her from noticing that rather crucial detail sooner? Well, she figured after a moment, it wasn't like she could get up and find them, so she was forced to be content to stay put. She pulled the blanket across her lap, satisfied with that. For now anyway.

Lightning hadn't meant to sleep so long, really. It was only supposed to be a power nap, no more than twenty minutes, but it turned into a full night's sleep. Somehow Snow had convinced her to come home for dinner and it went downhill from there, to the point where she was suspicious of her brother-in-law spiking her drink. But he would never do that if he knew what was good for him. Within mere seconds of waking up she was out the door again, mentally berating herself for being so lazy.

She passed Bradley's desk with a small wave, not making eye contact with the clerk even as he said "good morning". He didn't pay it much mind, knowing she was a woman on a mission, and that was something you simply didn't interrupt. He had learned that the hard way, so he let it be and got back to his usual paperwork.

Her pace was hurried, nigh on frenetic, as she proceeded down the familiar hallway, eyes zeroing in the on the infirmary door. When she reached it she paused, taking a brief moment to compose herself, wanting to enter quietly. With that accomplished she reached for the handle, turning it and pulling the door open. She stepped in just in time to hear the clang of fiberglass against a metal bed frame and the flurry of curses to follow. It was wrong to, but Light couldn't help but to smile just a bit. She had always found Fang's foul language to be strangely entertaining, never mind her surprise that Fang had the energy to do so.

"That sounded like it hurt." Light said, arms crossed as she lingered in the doorway.

Fang only nodded, having gotten passed the swearing and now on to the biting her lip as tight as she could stand with her bad leg gathered close to her chest. She waited for it to subside, just like before, and then lifted her head to properly address her visitor. Strange how that voice sounded so familiar, but it was difficult to see with the lights turned down so low.

Lightning stepped forward, and watched with growing anticipation as Fang looked her over.

The rose blush hair hadn't changed, nor the solid features and hard chin. Nothing much about her had changed at all, although the winter clothing seemed out of place. Recognition came back in a heartwarming surge, and Fang twisted in the bed to throw her arms around Lightning's waist just as she came close enough.

"You're still here," her grip was tight, unyielding as she finally felt secure, felt safe. "Thank the gods...I'm not alone." she hadn't been so lucky before. After five hundred years of crystal stasis she woke only to find everything she loved gone, vanished beneath a veil of crystal dust. But Lightning was still here, all was not lost.

Lightning returned the gesture, allowing one hand to rest on Fang's shoulder, and the other atop her head as it pressed against her belly. Undoubtedly she was feeling the same way, most fortunate to have her friend back. A missing piece was back in its place and everything with the universe was right.

Fang lifted her head, easing back just a little so she could look up. At first she was smiling, but then her expression twisted slightly. "You're older," as if she were almost surprised.

Lightning's smile fell as well. "Not much older." she asserted. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her age. "How are you feeling?"

"Damn miserable." Fang eased back into bed, tugging the blanket across her legs as Lightning sat on the next bed across from her. "When can I get this bloody thing off my leg?"

"I would say about six weeks or more." and she smirked at how Fang groaned in disgust at the number. "So...can you tell me what happened?""

Fang put one hand to her forehead, eyes closed as if in deep thought. "Where to start...it seems like it all happened at once." so much was still fuzzy at best, seemingly out of order, but she did her best to describe the myriad of events that transpired between now and the moment she woke in the wagon. One thing she remembered most clearly were the human-like creatures with fangs and white skin, and those haunting black eyes.

"Were you bitten?" Lightning asked when she had a moment.

"Yeah," Fang held one arm in the other hand, as if nursing the injury. "But I made the bastard regret it."

Lightning had no doubt of that. "Did any others follow you when you ran?"

Fang nodded. "Killed him too, that's how I was able to get such a close look. I'll tell you," she paused, looking mildly astonished. "I've never seen anything like them before. They certainly weren't human."

"The more I hear, the more inclined I am to agree." She had suspected as much by now. Humans left tracks, traces of their existence. These things didn't. What they did do, according to Fang, were things far outside of what was considered human, much less normal. "Where there any others?"

Fang nodded. "But I don't think they followed me. If they had I'd imagine someone would've caught a glimpse of them skulking around."

Then again, maybe not. "What else?"

"That covers it for the most part." Fang scratched the back of her head slowly. Her expression made evident that there was more she wanted to say than she let on. A darkness fell around her eyes, a lowering of her brow.

"What is it?" Lightning's tone was gentle and yet prying at the same time.

Fang took a long moment to answer, as if gathering the courage to reveal something normally kept so secret under lock and key. "I'm scared." she managed at last.

That was something Lightning hadn't expected to hear. Fang, afraid? No, that couldn't be right.

Fang's brow tightened further. "Vanille's out there somewhere...all alone...and I can't even begin to think where to start looking." there was sadness in those wild blue eyes, sadness and deep rooted terror. "What am I going to do?"

"No one's seen a trace of her," Lightning said, thinking it best just to give her the facts straight, "and our options are severely limited at the moment." and then she felt the need to be a friend, not just a doomsayer. "Vanille's a survivor, Fang, you saw to that. I know she'll make it through until we can find her."

"It's like Cocoon all over again." Fang sounded so hopeless, and rightly so. Cocoon was not nearly so vast or so wild as her dwarfing sister. It would take nothing at all for someone to become lost in the mighty throws of Gran Pulse's grasp. "It can't get much worse than this."

"Don't say that," for the love of the gods, don't say it, "or else it will. You need to stay positive."

"Easy for you to say." Fang almost sounded bitter.

"I know this is tough for you, believe me, but you'll have to be patient."

"Like I got any other choice!" the volume of her voice went up, as well as the frequency of the beeping from the heart monitor. She glared at the device. "Can we turn that damn thing off?"

"Let me go find a doctor." Light began to stand up.

"No, no, never mind. I can put up with it a while longer."

"I probably should anyway, they'll want to have a look at you now that you're awake."

"Light," the truth was, Fang didn't want to be alone. Somehow the insecurity had sneaked up on her and there was no getting rid of it. "Please stay." she almost sounded ashamed to ask.

It was strange to see Fang act like this, so vulnerable. "Okay, sure." and she stayed put, if for no other reason than to offer whatever comfort Fang needed.

Fang seemed to relax after Hope came in about an hour or so later. Needless to say she was taken aback by how much he'd grown since seeing him last, and her temperament only improved when Snow and Serah visited as well. It was a strangely cozy sort of family affair, especially after Snow got a hold of a felt-tipped marker and everyone began to take turns drawing on Fang's cast.

She was feeling better, Lightning could see, but only so much. Even when Fang laughed out loud, holding her side at the slight pinch, Lightning could sense the reservation. There was a hesitation in her smile, almost guilt, as if it simply wasn't right to enjoy herself without a certain someone there. It was near heartbreaking to see, and she could barely stand it.

Once the snow had melted and the pass was clear, she thought, once Spring came they would be able to search for Vanille. And there would be no stopping until they found her.

Or, at the very least, what was left.

Author's Note: I'm really surprised at how well this fic is being received, considering how much of a steaming pile this is. To address the review by "rrr", I'm glad you're enjoying it, although I understand what you mean about a disjointed plot. Hopefully I will fix that soon. I often have trouble addressing the plot right away, but it should be more clear shortly. I don't often write fics for the sake of a direct plot, but more so the human experience through events. If that makes any sense.

But this marks the first transition. In the next chapter we'll finally find out what happened to Vanille, and I will be leaving this group of characters alone for a short while.

You can see a little art for this fic at .com

Enjoy.


	8. Chapter VII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Seven**

Terror.

A fear that pierced your core like a cold dagger in your stomach, it stole your breath and made you forget who you were. Vanille could feel the talons of it sinking deeper, making her shake down to her very bones in time with the rattling of the wagon as it rolled down the uneven earthen path. She curled tightly into herself, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them and with her head down, trying to hide how she bit hard on her bottom lip. It was cold here, the air wet and bitter, but it was mostly the fear that made her shiver, that and the heavy stare of the two bondsman sitting in the wagon with her. Their gaze never shifted, they didn't move an inch, they just stared like hungry hawks upon feeble prey.

This is where Vanille found herself when she woke about a day or so ago, in the back of the wagon under a stretch of fabric that was originally covering the statue she once was. Her first instincts had been to assess the situation and then run for her life. Unfortunately she only made it to step one before the vampires discovered her. She made an honest attempt at step two, but there wasn't a chance in hell for her to outrun the vampires, not at night, not ever. The bondsman had surrounded her within seconds of her jumping out of the wagon onto sodden ground, fangs bared and eyes flashing. She had nowhere to go, no brand that she might summon an ally for help, her only option was to surrender.

They took her staff and shoved her back into the wagon, the two silent vamps her only company. A pair of strong looking fellows, they were white skinned with wavy black tattoos all over their face and body. Long raven hair fell around their hard edged faces, the white slits peering through the tresses. Vanille would swear that she never saw them blink.

Vanille had no idea where they were headed. There was a small hole in the cover of the wagon that she could peer through, see the landscape change as they moved further along, but none of it looked familiar. Frozen marshes, desolate plains, a dense forest, none of it sparked even the faintest memory. When this realization set in, that is when she began to feel truly lost, a feeling of being in the middle of nowhere and not a friendly soul for miles. Nothing but a score of beings previously unseen and foreign terrain.

The party would stop at night, resting and feeding the animals as well as themselves. Her guards would change off with another pair of bondsman while they disappeared into the darkness to gorge on some unfortunate creature, and return to reek of their lifeblood with red stains around their mouth. One of the miners had bothered with the kindness of giving her a blanket, and it was at night that she would curl up in it and hide. Anything to not have to see the blood.

Four days the party was on the road, steady in their pace across the vast stretches of land. The vampires cheered, seeming genuinely happy when they crossed the border of the Sepulcher and were now in the Hinterlands. They were home, and it was a tradition, bordering on superstition, to call out loud as a show of appreciation to the saints for a safe return. It scared Vanille half to death; it had been silent as a tomb for days and the sudden change was more than startling.

It was around this time that Vanille began to feel nervous. There was this hovering sense of something...how to put it...like the shit was about to hit the fan. You know, that feeling you get when the noose is snug around your throat and you're counting down the seconds before the trapdoor disappears and you're vomited feet first straight to hell? Yeah, that's the one.

The wagon jerked to a stop, forcing Vanille to lift her head. She listened carefully, hearing numerous indistinguishable voices and the clamor of livestock plodding around them. Clearly something was going on outside the dark confines of the wagon, but there was no way of her knowing exactly what. They started to move again, and the wheels jolted upward as they rolled onto stone streets.

There was an uproar of all sorts of sounds upon entering the city. It was nearly noon here, so the cobble stone thoroughfares were bloated with the frenzied traffic of vendors and messengers and the tens of thousands of other denizens. Men and women and children, humans and vampires alike, were going about their daily routines of buying and selling. On every corner it seemed stood a white skinned bondsman, sometimes two, simply to keep the peace. With that being said, one could find this city's low crime rate feasible.

Arash, the crown jewel of the Hinterlands and the very heart of the trade routes that ran through it. In the northern reaches of Gran Pulse, life had carried on beyond the decay, even thrived. For nearly a millennia Arash had steadily grown. What was once a small village made of wooden structures, with a populace of little more than hunters, was now a towering splendor of high stone walls and towering minarets. Gilded domes shimmered in the sunlight as they sat atop sprawling, grand villas. The metropolis was five miles across from one gate to the other, and separated into twelve districts, all of which converged on the center of the city, onto Saints Plaza.

I'd like to address the Saints for a moment, if I may, as off topic as it may be. For the time being I will simply reveal that the saints were the founders of Arash, the local heroes if you will. Each district was named for one of them, taking said figure as their patron. They were most commonly distinguished by different colored banners with unique symbols that hung from balconies and doorways, no two were the same. On Saints Plaza, a twenty foot statue of the Saint stood vigil, arms out as if in welcome. All of the statues faced inward, towards the center of the plaza, where the patron saint of the city, Kalitas, stood at thirty feet high, eyes to the south, looking grand in his marble robes and armor. All of them were vampires, as was made evident by talons and the gentle reliefs of markings on their faces denoting their clan of origin.

Now, back to that poor child I left in the wagon.

Vanille could feel the wheels turning beneath her, felt everything shift to one side as the driver urged the chocobos down a side street. She rocked back and forth as the wheel hit an empty patch in the road, a loud bang resounding through the wooden frame. The bondsman didn't seem to notice, but only continued to watch her. Although she was fairly sure they just blinked that time.

The company was now in the trade district, where the miners would have their shipment assessed and be paid for their services and so on and so forth. But, much like any other city, there was more to its economy than mineral goods, textiles, or even food. Livestock was the main money maker for Arash, the pulse (if you'll forgive the pun) of its market and growth. Cows, mules, chickens, geese...

And humans.

Lord Anowon had decided almost immediately that he had no need for the girl now that she was no longer a statue. She would have maintained an unreal value with the budding crystal market, but that was not the case now. Sure, he was going to get a fair price for her nonetheless, but not nearly as much as he had been hoping.

When the cart came to a stop Anowon oh-so-gracefully stepped down from his seat beside the driver. With robes swishing he rounded the back of the wagon, whistling to the bondsman and the miners so they could begin unloading the cargo. The overseers could see to that matter, he trusted them enough, and that would leave himself to address the issue of the human. He never cared much for the creatures, thought hey had their uses, and the length of his concern went only so far as the gold he was bound to get.

Vanille's protest against being pulled out of the wagon was mild at best. Just by the way the bondsmen gripped her by the arms, firm enough to leave marks, she was able to surmise that she wouldn't be able to resist with any potency. And they didn't let go as they forced her to follow behind Lord Anowon with them.

The sun was in her eyes, but even then she was able to see the goings on around her, able to see all the people passing by. Though she couldn't tell right away, she was surrounded by vampires. Some had the ashen skin she was so accustomed now to seeing, while others had the same complexion as herself. One could almost confuse them for humans were it not for their pricked ears and their fairly typical eyes. This particular breed had once been human, having been turned at some point. They were not allowed to bare any tattoos on their face, all the while their paler cousins, those who were born as they are, wore tattoos that affiliated them with a brood or particular clan. No two patterns were ever identical, even if the difference was a variance so slight only the wary could point it out. And rank within society was most often dictated by color. Lord Anowon bore a design on his chest that resembled a nest of veins, branching outward from the middle in feather-light strokes. It was dyed a bright, bloody red, which made known to everyone that he was a high born member of his brood.

But the bondsmen were a completely different story, which I'll elaborate on when the proper opportunity presents itself.

Vanille found herself staring, her attention reigned in by so many unfamiliar things. The grandeur of the structures surrounding made her think back to Eden, so imposing and thought provoking from its once lofty perch. The sight of strange faces, and jet black hair that caught the light in a myriad of different colors. Serpentine eyes focused on her for brief moments, curious as the black slits flexed in passing. It was like being flung into an entirely new existence where everything was on its head.

The trade district was littered with auction houses, large complexes made from dark red bricks and mortar. More often than not it was here that living commodities were held until they could be sold in one of the three public auctions that were held every day. To Vanille, it looked more like a dungeon, and that crippling fear began to settle in again as she was taken inside of the first one they passed.

It was crowded within the darkened, almost suffocating confines, the few hours between auctions normally being the busiest times. Buyers and sellers alike pushed passed one another, leading their wares by tether and chains. Vanille's heart sank at the sight of a slave, a boy no older than herself with a heavy steel manacle around his neck, his head dipped down as his new master lead him along. Somehow she knew she had just caught a glimpse of her own fate.

The curator of this house was a short, stout vampire with rosy red cheeks and an endless mass of bright red hair all over his head and face, his pricked ears poking out and pierced with several different adornments each. His stomach was almost too big for him to properly sit at the table as he wrote something down in a large, leather bound book. He didn't lift his head until Anowon stood before him, staring holes into the top of his head. Anowon was incredibly tall, by the way, pushing seven-foot-six.

"My lord, so good to see you!" he slapped the book shut as he stood up. "What brings you to my humble establishment on such a fine day?" This vampire was very good at kissing up to the highborn, he made his living from it.

"I wish to sell this to you." Anowon's voice was flat, his tone firm, and he stepped aside that the curator might see what he had brought.

"Do you, now? Let's have a look then, shall we?" he stepped around the table, his pen still in his hand. "My goodness, isn't she a pretty one?"

Vanille began to feel like little more than a cut of meat as the vampire looked her up and down, putting his hands on her in ways she most certainly didn't like and squeezing as if to check the quality. He grabbed hold of one wrist and held it up, using a short, but sharp and gleaming silver talon on the tip of his pinky finger to make a small cut, just enough to draw blood. She yelped at the spark of pain, and watched him with mild horror as he smudged the crimson droplets with his index finger and put it to his mouth.

"Very healthy," he said after a moment. "And what beautiful hair. I should be able to sell her easily." Pretty slaves were like a fashion statement, a very well paying one at that. Vampires were willing to pay almost anything to own a human that exhibited unusual traits, such as rare hair or eye coloration. "What did you pay for her?"

"I didn't."

The curator's eyes widened. "Surely you're joking."

"Do I joke?"

No, he didn't. "Point taken. Very well then...make me an offer." he already had a number in mind, a low one, but was doubtful the highborn would be so generous.

"One hundred gold talons." Anowon said after a brief thought.

He pulled at his beard, seeming deep in thought. "How about ninety?"

Vanille felt disgusted. They were bidding over her, like she wasn't even there! Although there was little she could about it.

"One hundred."

"Ninety-five."

"One hundred and not a coin less." Anowon sounded like he'd reached the extent of his willingness to haggle. And the curator knew this. He'd pushed and pushed, almost too far, and realized it was the best he was going to get.

"Very well, I agree." and the two shook hands on it. "Now allow me to catalog this and you'll be on your way." the curator took Vanille's wrist again, and used his pen to scrawl a number on her skin, a number he would copy down in his ledger along side the amount exchanged for ownership. And with that her fate was sealed. She had been traded one brand for another.

Anowon gathered his money and left, taking his bondsmen with him once they had given the human up to their brothers employed by the auction house.

Perhaps she hadn't been able to find the courage before, but now she had. Better too late than never, I suppose. Vanille gave the bondsmen a hell of a time as they dragged her away, thrashing and kicking with everything she had with the hope that, by some off chance, she would pry herself away. She went so far as to bash one of them hard in the stomach with her knee, surprised when he didn't react at all.

He wanted to, mind you, but knew it would only serve to get him in trouble. Don't damage the merchandise. Selling a slave with a black eye was about as ludicrous as trying to sell spoiled fruit.

It was normal procedure for new slaves to be taken to a private room and evaluated before being put up for sale, determining their worth and so on. Things such as overall health, education, and career skills could up the price a considerable amount. Vanille was forced to suffer such close scrutiny under the eyes of several auctioneers as well as the assistant curator, some tall, lanky fellow with a pointy nose that appeared human.

"Take off your clothes. Your jewelry as well."

"Excuse me?" her body tensed at the demand.

"Unless you would rather they do it," the assistant curator had no intention of dawdling as he waved his pen at the bondsmen still near by. One of them smirked at her as she glanced in their direction, which only served to frighten the daylights out of her. To save herself from possibly more trouble, she complied. Gods knew she didn't want to do it, pulling teeth would have been easier, but what choice did she have?

Did they have to stare like that?

Now she stood there, naked, her head down and eyes on the floor. She began to shiver out of sheer nerves, her arms moving unsteadily to cover herself.

"Hold still."

She bit her tongue against a protest, knowing it would do no good.

All of them started circling, looking her up and down, the assistant writing things down as his eyes shifted between her and his pen. Then he started asking questions.

"Age?"

"N-nineteen."

"Bilingual?"

"Y-yes." Odd question.

He scribbled something, nodding as if pleasantly surprised, and began muttering to himself as he continued to write. Perhaps he could answer most of his curiosities simply by looking at her? He was experienced enough in his profession to do just that, actually.

"Any living relatives?"

Odd question, one she wasn't entirely certain of. She gave her best answer. "Yes."

"Spouse?"

"No."

Then came the strange one. "Are you a virgin?" And he lifted his eyes to see her flinch at the question, taking it as a resounding "yes". He laughed quietly to himself as he jotted down more notes.

What on earth did that have to do with anything? She couldn't help but wonder, but little did she know how much more an intact female slave was worth.

The questions then stopped, and the next thing she knew a bondsman had her firmly by the hair, forcing her head back to expose her neck. She reacted, reaching to pry his hands away, the tension making her scalp pinch, but her arms were were trapped at her sides by his other arm, like the coiling of a serpent in its strength.

Cold, heavy steel circled and closed around her throat, a loud click from an unseen mechanism forcing her to tense from head to toe. The manacle wasn't so tight, but just enough to make it impossible to slip out of. It was easily three pounds of solid metal that would only seem to grow heavier the longer it was worn and was sure to leave marks on the skin.

A loop of metal was positioned at the front of the collar where a bondsman hooked an open link of chain and squeezed it shut with his bare hands. It was only after he was sure it would hold that his brother let her go, all the while he kept a firm grip on the other end of the chain.

"I believe that covers everything." the assistant curator said at last, rubbing his finger beneath his nose as he sniffed. He ripped a page from his note pad, handing it to the bondsman nearest to him. "She's all yours, gentlemen."

Vanille prayed and prayed, nigh on screamed out loud that he didn't mean what she thought he did. She was almost thankful for the painful pulling on her neck as the bondsmen led her out of the room still naked. Everything she once owned was going to be sold, just like her.

But first thing's first, all new acquisitions must be held for twenty-four hours, some legal nonsense that made many an auctioneer cringe. They didn't like having to wait to make money, but the law was the law, and no one was above it.

The next corridor was better lit than the previous, light coming in through the windows of the numerous cells that lined the walls, fragmented by the bars. The whole place reeked of livestock and gods knew what else, and the sounds of animals shuffling and baying, or mooing, or clucking was hard on the ears. And it was very busy, mainly outgoing traffic of bondsman leading humans and animals out in preparation for the next auction. It was like this every day, three times a day at morning, noon, and evening just before sunset when the firm was to close.

Vanille could feel what little hope she had beginning to fizzle out, and there was certainly none to be had in this place. She could see that even the animals appeared broken spirited, which was doubly so for the humans. Those that remained sat huddled in their cells, chains firmly anchored to the floor, naked and hiding their faces as they waited their turn. The fear came back, arm in arm with the uncertainty of what was going to become of her. It all settled in the pit of her stomach, something hard and cold that caused her chest to tighten.

Just the same as all the others, the bondsman placed her in a cell which was otherwise empty. Cold, rough stone floor and walls with but one window to the outside made up the confines behind the heavy steel bars. One of the vampires pried apart the last link in the chain that he might close it around the loop in the floor that was sure to keep her in place.

As they turned to leave, Vanille glanced around. There was a wooden bucket in the corner, just in reach that the chain would allow. In a last ditch effort, perhaps a last act of defiance, she snatched it up and hurled it at the bondsman. Never mind that it was full of human waste.

The bondsman stilled at the hard knock of wood against his skull, his neck and shoulders tensing into high arches as he was covered in cold urine and feces. Everything went quiet, not a single sound to be heard anywhere. All eyes had turned to see what had just happened.

Slowly he turned, starting with his head so that his eyes, slits narrowed to the width of a paper cut, would fall on her first. His expression was a hard scowl, brow thick over his eyes. He would have bared his fangs if he didn't think any filth would get in his mouth. Hard, swift breaths hissed in and out of his flared nostrils. It was taking every single ounce of his self-control not to kill this human, this little girl standing so proudly as she glared back at him. His fingers curled into fists, trembling as his claws cut into his palms.

Finally his brother saw fit to remove him before the worst happened, touching him hesitantly at the shoulder to lead him out, locking the cell door behind him. He then took the sheet of paper the assistant curator gave him and pierced it to hang on an exposed nail beside the bars; it was for the auctioneers so they would know what she was worth. Vanille watched them go, half listening to one's attempt to calm the other.

She let her forehead rest against the bars, that defiance having run its course and given way to fear once again. It didn't help that the other slaves were staring at her now, silently begging the question "what have you done?", their eyes wide set and fretting. Eventually they all turned away, but their expressions lingered in her mind's eye for hours.

In the end Vanille resigned herself to the current situation. There was no changing it for the time being anyhow. She found a corner to sit in, doing her best to ignore the unforgiving texture of the stone against her tender hide. Gathering her legs to her chest she let her chin rest atop her knees, arms wrapped around to hold herself together. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to try and stave off her rising heart rate.

What was going to happen now? The question passed back and forth between her ears now that she had a moment to think about it. What was this place, these people...nothing was familiar, and it was staggering to consider.

A stranger in a strange land.

Rarely a circumstance anyone would consider favorable.

Vanille buried her face into her knees, her body tensing with a small tremor. She was terrified, without any real hope. Lifting her head she looked out the only window, tears blurring her vision as the outside world seemed miles away.

"Fang...where are you?" as if her companion would hear, as if she would answer. Vanille put the knuckle of her first finger in her mouth, biting into it. It was a nervous habit, one she thought she'd kicked a long time ago. But what else could she do? Not like she could go for a stroll to get her bearings straight. No, she was staying put until further notice.

And as the sunlight dwindled at twilight, the air growing colder, all she could manage was a silent prayer repeating in her head as she chewed on her finger.

A prayer for a miracle.

_(–)_

Dash pulled on Helm, trying to pry him off the bar stool that his backside seemed glued to.

"Come on, now, I say you've had enough."

"Like hell I have!" Helm was long gone, reddened cheeks accenting his crimson eyes. He often got like this when he was even mildly depressed. "I haven't gotten started!"

"No, no, let's go home."

Helm wasn't himself when he drank. Had been like that all his life, even before Dash turned him. Helm was a special case, actually, very much unlike others that had been turned, and that seemed to have a part in how he had developed as a vampire.

Helm had been an old man when he and Dash met for the first time, pushing his eighties. They became friends almost right away and, at the time, that was not a common occurrence. Vampires and humans worked together everyday, had been for many years, but they rarely got passed a typical relationship that involved little more than last names and half-sincere greetings.

Somehow, Dash couldn't quite remember, Helm had convinced him to turn him. He had become infirm and sickly, afraid to die or simply not ready. Whatever the reason, it was enough to sway Dash to grant the plea. But that wasn't the strange part, it was what the transformation did to him.

Newly turned vampires often spent the first week of their "new life" adjusting to the changes, growing accustomed to the hunger and the heightened senses. Helm was no different, with the exception of the fact that his aging had regressed. His wrinkles smoothed out, his joints no longer ached, and his eyes had changed from a dull brown to crimson. Now he looked better than when he did in his twenties, though his hair was still white with touches of gray. There had been cases such as his before, but very few. No one knew what to make of them.

After the change Helm found himself more carefree, but also very protective of his want to do whatever the hell he pleased. With all that aside, however, he'd never been one to keep a firm hold of his emotions anyhow. So, when he was depressed, he was inconsolable. When he was happy, he'd kiss a man on the mouth.

Needless to say that he was rather depressed right now, had been all the way home. Their half of the mining party had come into the city but an hour ago. The first thing they did was stash their share away, and then Helm went straight to the nearest ginmill. And he only ever drank one thing, and it was affectionately known as a Lobotomy. Said drink contained up to two shots of everything on the shelf and was served in a chilled high-ball glass. He'd had two already. Even a vampire can only hold so much.

"You've had plenty, Helm." Dash tugged on him again.

Helm rested his head on the bar, sure the have an imprint of the intricate carving on his cheek once he decided to get up. But he didn't plan on getting up. The support of the counter was secure, like the embrace of a good woman, he didn't want to be torn away from that. He groaned in protest at his companion's insistent pulling and swatted his hand away.

Dash kept trying, finally able to peel Helm to his feet just before he fell to his knees. With a roll of his serpentine eyes he pulled Helm's arm across the back of his neck, and gripped the belt of his breeches to hoist him up again. He made attempts to pay the bartender and bid the other patrons goodnight before walking out the double doors that swung to a stop as he passed through.

It wasn't a long walk home. Their dwelling was but a couple of streets over, and even in the dark Dash could find his way. Most vampires could see in the dark as if it were daylight, sometimes better. Helm's boots dragged across the cobblestones beneath him.

"Dash," he grumbled.

"What is it?"

"I want a woman."

"No, Helm."

"And why the hell not?" he was sounding like the cantankerous old man he had once been, his speech slurred from the burn of alcohol. "I want titties in my face, pronto!"

"You'd throw up on the poor girl, Helm. You know what would happen then, don't you?" and Dash had the tone of a condescending mother.

"She'd kick my ass?"

"She'd kick your ass." his head went up and down. "And I'd let her. Now we are going to go home, and you are going to bed."

"Fuck you, I'm not tired,"

Dash knew he didn't mean to be this nasty, it was the lobotomy. "Sure you are. You're tired and cranky; you need some sleep."

"Nah!" it was a gargling growl that was mean to be some sort of protest. It was the last...word out of his mouth.

Their house was modest, at least modest was the nice word for it. Two rooms, one floor, a space just big enough to die in. It had a working bathroom and kitchen, and a bed that was probably more comfortable for the mites living in it than anyone that slept there. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter, and the roof leaked on dry days (figure that one out), but it was home.

The only reason they had felt safe leaving their haul from the job in here was that they knew no one would be snooping around to rob a dump like this.

Dash kicked the door open, easy since it didn't lock. He went across the floor to the bed that was nestled low to the floor on its frame. There he deposited his intoxicated friend in a heap, somehow his backside becoming perched in the air. That was a fairly typical position for Helm, so he left him that way.

Dash looked down at him, his arms crossed and his head easing back and forth with a sigh. It wasn't going to be like this forever, he told himself. Once they sold the crystal all of this would change. Helm could have his own bed, his own room, his own house if he wanted. Dash often thought about these things, off and one and most of all at night while he was awake. It was typical. He was Helm's sire, and as such it was almost instinctual for him to consider his charge's needs. It was like being a parent.

With another heavy shrug he slumped onto the bed, taking the only pillow in his arm as he curled it beneath his head and settled onto his side.

Yes, everything was going to be better.

Starting tomorrow.

_(–)_

Tomorrow. What a god awful way to swear at someone.

Tomorrow isn't a promise, it's a threat, with the rays of first light as the knife at your back.

Vanille realized that the sun was up after waking suddenly, something she had been doing all night long. If it wasn't due to the animals stirring, the cold, or the sheer discomfort of her accommodations, it was because of the bad dreams.

Still in the position she had fallen asleep in, Vanille hugged herself tightly as she shivered, her breath a wisp of mist in the still chilled air. The corridor was still very quiet, even the animals were fast asleep at this hour. It was a strange sort of peace, at the very least it was enough to steal just a few more minutes of rest. Just a few.

Activity picked up within the hour. The first public auction was on the verge of beginning, so buyers and sellers both began to flood the place. As patrons came in, products were being moved out. Bondsman were moving almost systematically in and out of the many cells throughout the building, always taking something with them as they went. Vanille watched quietly, thinking her silence would keep her invisible, curious and nervous. She would be sold like the others, she was well aware of that. She was going to be paraded out there on the auction block and surrendered for a few gold coins to gods know who, treated no better than a mule. The idea was making her feel sick. She tried to tell herself she'd been through worse and lived, but she didn't actually believe it.

There was another practice that often occurred just before and after seemingly every auction.

Silent bidding.

Most often it was for buyers looking for a particular item and they were willing to pay almost anything to have it without going through the hassle of battling it out in the open forum. There was no law forbidding such procedures, and it was actually quite trendy for the rich. I suppose it wouldn't be much different from bribing your produce guy to deliver to you first so you get fresher fruit.

The curator sat at his desk as usual, perusing his ledger when he lifted his eyes but a moment, distracted by some stray movement. His eyes fell on a vampire he'd seen a few times before, one he never felt good about having encountered. He lowered his eyes, taking a steadying breath and half praying she wasn't here to talk to him. Which was highly unlikely, mind you.

"Saints preserve me," he whispered in prayer.

"Marco, so good to see you," came the woman's cyanide sweet voice. Condescending as usual.

"Christ," he said under his breath, then his temperament changed. "Miriam, darling, how are you?"

The vampire was a turned one, skin pale but showing signs of life, and pricked ears pierced with an array of golden studs adorned with gemstones. Her hair was short and flared at the neck, the auburn color accented with bright amber highlights. The eyes of two peacock feathers dangled from chains she had tied behind her ears. Teal graced the edges of her piercing cobalt eyes and crimson stained her lips. The color matched the hide of the lizard that prowled and twisted itself about her neck and shoulders, a four legged terror by any other name that would flair its fleshy skin collar at anyone it didn't like. Its little yellow eyes were slitted, and it blinked with dual eyelids as it flicked its black tongue.

"I'm positively dazzling, as always, Marco, thank you for asking." needless to say she was in love with only two things, one of which being herself.

"What can I do for you?"

"I would absolutely _love_ to see anything new you have, particularly of the human persuasion." and smiled at him, more like a sneer in a good mood.

That's what she always wanted. This woman went through slaves like someone went through toilet paper. He rolled his eyes when she wasn't looking, reaching for a drawer and appearing to be eager to help. He found his paperwork for all the newly imported slaves and started flipping through it after shutting the drawer.

"Why don't you follow me and maybe you'll see something you like." he just wanted to be rid of her as soon as possible, so he wasted no time.

"I'm sure you will, Marco, you _never_ disappoint me." and then she laughed in such a way that he swore an infant must have shuddered and died in its crib somewhere.

For the next half hour he escorted Miriam through the entirety of his most recent acquisitions. She seemed indifferent to almost everything. Normally she fancied the young ones, those just reaching adulthood and that were seemingly easy to train as opposed to the older humans. Although there had been a rare time when she had bought a man in his twenties. She thought him handsome, that was probably it.

Finally Miriam paused as her eyes graced the floor and caught a glimpse of bright, fiery hair. She paused in front of the cell with an inquisitive purr, just as another vampire directed his attention in the same manner.

"Miriam," the other vampire greeted, offering his hand in greeting that Miriam didn't take. "What brings you out of your casket at this hour?"

"Oh, ha-ha," she pretended to actually be amused, laughing in that child killing way. "So witty, Raul, as always." she had never cared for the highborn, simply because he didn't care for her. He didn't suck up so she had no use for him. "But, if you must know, I'm shopping."

"What a coincidence!" Raul's serpentine slits fluxed. "As am I! I certainly hope you find what you're looking for, now if you would be so kind as to move along, I would like to ask Marco about buying this fine thing here." and he gestured into the cell with a pale blue, clawed hand.

"I don't think so," Miriam shook her head and smirked. "I saw it first."

"Come now, Miriam, really," Raul crossed his arms, exchanging a quick glance with the curator. "What could you possibly use her for?"

"What else?"

"She'd just go to waste."

"And you would use it better? Whore monger."

"If I needed another one of those, I would be at your villa instead of an auction house. Then again, here you are,"

Miriam's face darkened with a scowl, and her lizard flared its collar with a hiss.

"Excuse me," Marco interjected. "I understand you're both interested in such a fine item, but why not have an honest bid about it? It's fair enough, isn't it?" he just didn't want things to get ugly.

"I suppose." Raul stroked his chin. "I'll give you half of the asking price if you walk away now, Miriam."

"Hardly." she sniffed. "Give me double."

"Thank goodness you're pretty, because you're out of your mind." Raul shook his head. "Asking price plus half."

"Double."

"By the saints," he couldn't afford that much, but he didn't want her to know that. "What else do you want, Miriam?"

"Nothing you're of the mind to give, Raul. You might as well take your leave. I'm richer than you'll ever hope to be."

"I suppose so, seeing as who your sire is. Not all of us can be fortunate enough to ride on _his_ wallet strings."

Her scowl deepened. "If you concede then leave."

Raul bowed, more to mock her than show any modicum of respect. "Of course, my lady."

All the while Vanille was watching the vampires, glances jumping between them as they dueled with words and gold. She understood what was happening, but there was no telling what either outcome would mean for her. By the sounds of it that one vampire was a pimp, and she most certainly didn't want to end up in that situation...but what about the other? Why did it seem like the curator didn't want to sell anything to her?

"Now, Marco, interruption not withstanding," Miriam took a breath, her lizard calming down as his mistress did. "How much for this one?"

"I see you have a keen eye for quality, no surprise," you could tell the man was hiding some sort of disappointment in his voice as he stroked his beard. "I'll cut you a deal at one hundred and eighty gold pieces."

"Hmm," she put a manicured claw to her cheek. "One-seventy."

"Come now, dear, I'm already losing money with one-eighty." he almost sounded desperate.

"Then you'll just have to make it worth my money."

Marco shrugged. Oh how he hated this bitch. "I have some exotic animals on hold as well, if you would like to have a look at them."

"Do you? Perhaps we could find a mate for little Lucifer," she tickled the lizard's chin as it curled around her neck, growling as a sign of contentment. "Shall I pay you now then?"

"If you will give me a moment, I will have all the papers ready for you at my desk. Go along to see the animals, I will be right behind you."

"Thank you, darling, you're a blessing." and the sneer and cyanide was back.

Once she was gone he heaved a shrug of relief, though it didn't show on his face. With his head shaking back and forth he pulled a pen from his pocket and scrawled "SOLD" on the piece of paper hanging from the nail beside the cell. Then he left as well, needing to write up a receipt so Miriam could come for her...items once the holding period expired.

"You poor, poor thing."

Vanille just managed to catch the whisper of sympathy, suddenly terrified.

Maybe she would have been better off with the pimp.

Author's Note: I feel ten times better about this chapter than I have about any other so far. Maybe I'm just much more able to introduce new ideas and new faces, than I am about revisiting already known ideas. I suppose its performance anxiety, under the pressure of having to accurately recreate characters and places I expect the reader to already know about. I dunno.

I'd expect most of you can guess what's coming. If you've read anything else of mine you know it's going to be, at the very least, morally discomforting. I think I have a morbid fascination with the destruction of purity. Call me psycho. Anyway, Lord knows when I'll get the next chapter out, I've got a considerable amount of thinking through to do first. See you then.


	9. Chapter VIII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Eight**

By later afternoon the holding period on Miriam's purchases had expired, and being the far too good noble that she was, she sent someone else to pick them up for her.

His name was Tor, at least that's what everyone heard. No one had the guts to ask him outright. He was a lumbering bear of a vampire, nearly eight feet tall from the top of his head to the soles of his monolithic feet. His hair was close cut save the tiny rat tail in the back, and a foo manchu grew on his chin. It was a generally accepted fact that his fists were as big as his head. If that was true was anyone's guess, although it was certain that they were much bigger than yours. Bumping into the man on the street was like getting hit by a runaway elephant, and whether it was his fault or not, you would apologize all the same. Usually he wouldn't speak, not like anyone could force him to, and instead just glared and growled low as a response to everything. Just a glimpse from Tor was enough to send someone running. But it wasn't simply because of his towering stature, or even the fact that he was one of the finest bondsman ever bred; it was due to one tiny detail that everyone knew.

He was Miriam's bondsman. This one man, sire notwithstanding, made that noble bitch near bulletproof.

Every time Marco saw him he shrank, and this time was no different. With a trembling hand he took the receipt Tor presented to him, taking only a brief, shuddering moment to read it before standing.

"Ah yes," he feigned a wavering smile. "I'll be...j-just a moment." and Marco scurried away as fast as his fat, stubby legs would carry him. First he went to fetch the animal Miriam had picked out, a golden lizard that was, or might as well be, a copy of her pet Lucifer aside from being double her intended mate's size. Their species tended to be matriarchal, which would explain why the little red terror took to his mistress so well. He brought it back to his desk still in its cage, setting it down and keeping his eyes away from Tor as he passed by, going down the other corridor.

The lizard hissed and rattled its fleshy collar until Tor looked at it. Then it stopped, curling into a ball with its tail across its eyes.

Marco had handed off the signed receipt to the attending bondsmen and waited patiently by the door as they went to fetch the item that matched the lot number above Miriam's signature.

The cell door swung open with a typical whine of steel on steel, a high-pitched squeal that startled Vanille and forced her to raise her head. She inched back out of fear, meeting the stone wall behind her as she flattened against it. A bondsman advanced without a word, crouching down, the slits of his eyes narrow as they settled on her, and opened the end of the chain to release it from its anchor in the floor. As he stood he gave it a firm yank. Vanille felt something pop in her neck as she lurched forward, on her hands and knees as he continued to pull her along, never mind whether she walked or crawled. As they went towards the only way in or out, the bondsman held the length of the chain short, forcing Vanille to hunch over as she followed. Her lower back was already starting to pinch and she could feel the edge of the manacle biting into her skin as he kept the tension firm.

Vanille saw Tor, his head high above any other, and felt herself shrink. She couldn't help but to tilt her head back to look up at him, marveling at his sheer size. If she had looked straight ahead she would almost be staring into the cleft of his abdominal muscles.

"Everything here should be in order," Marco stroked his beard almost nervously, eager to see the giant leave. "Be sure to give her ladyship my regards."

Tor only grimaced as he was unceremoniously given what he'd come for. A cage in one hand, a slave in the other. And with them he left.

Marco sighed heavily, his hand curled against his neck. He would disappear into his office awhile, to count his money until he felt better.

It was nice being outside again, but the feeling was empty, overwhelmed by the base instinct to cover herself. She couldn't bare to lift her eyes from the street, watching her own feet walking instead of meeting the hundreds of pairs of eyes that followed her.

Tor lead her from one end of the city to the other, out of the trade district, through Saints Plaza, and into what appeared to be one of the many residential areas. Vampire children played in the streets within the shadows of dwellings and banners of crimson and violet that were strung between them. At the sight of Tor the lot of them scattered, a little girl running and crying for her mother. The boys clustered together in doorways, whispering as they watched him walk by. You would think they were looking at the boogeyman.

The same thing happened throughout the district. Was it simply because of Tor's stature? Really? Or was it because of who he worked for? It was anyone's guess, and always worth gossiping about, but there was no truth in either assumption. No one dared to ask.

Somehow Vanille knew when they were nearing their destination. Turning a corner she saw the brilliant shine of sunlight striking white marble. She lifted her head for the first time to see the splendid dome of a villa, and a lump formed in her throat as her heart lurched.

Miriam's villa was a grand one, but somewhat small in comparison to others of her status. Most vampires were tempted to build tall, towering structures, perhaps out of some unspoken egotistical drive. Whatever the reason, it was not the case here. It was only two-storied with no less glamor and finery than its taller counterparts.

Arash's protective wall, as well as the other structures, formed a resolute barrier around the property that was closed off by a single iron gate. The grounds within the entryway were well kept and lush with a seemingly innumerable populous of wildflowers and other plants, separated in the middle by a paved path. A circular reflective pool was at the heart of the courtyard, a marvel of landscaping as it flowed beneath the walkway through a small slat in the stone. At the end of the walkway was a short succession of polished marble steps leading to a fine wooden door with wrought iron twisted and curled across its face to mimic vines. A family of grand columns flanked the entrance on both sides.

They continued on inside, into the antechamber that sat directly beneath the dome. Smaller columns circled the mosaic in the floor depicting a stylized sun made with black marble, all of this made visible by the light coming through the recessed skylights that segmented the dome overhead. Vanille felt a hard tug as she lingered too long in a ray of light.

There were several doors that could be reached from this area, and they were arranged in such a way that they formed a semicircle against the far wall. In a fashion that could almost be seen as too typical, Tor took the center door, the most ornate of the lot that had a pane of stained glass with designs of roses suspended in the rippled and diffused material. It lead to a flight of upward climbing stairs.

Within was Miriam's personal chambers, in particular her study. It was a grand room, a vaulted chapel ceiling, more columns and crimson tapestries lining the walls. The marble floor was bare and well polished, reflections stretching across it in startling clarity. At the far end of the room was more stained glass, three separate vaulted marble frames held them in place, and none of the glass was clear. It was colored in brilliant hues of gold, blue, green, and black in the formation of a grand peacock with its fantastical feathers outstretched, taking flight upward as if the glass were the sky.

Down and away from the windowsill was Miriam's desk, a fine piece of ornate carpentry that many a noble would probably envy. The fine finish on it shimmered in the light, revealing a rich amber stain from top to bottom, protecting the delicate inlays and carvings that decorated it. One could only speculate what she used it for, seeing as it appeared that she actually had no pressing business to attend to.

And there she sat in a plush cushioned chair, Lucifer on the top of the desk as she played with him. She had a live mouse dangling above the lizard on a string. It squealed and struggled as she swung the poor rodent back and forth, Lucifer tracking every movement with his thin slitted eyes, his head not moving at all. Lucifer's tongue flicked once, twice, then he pounced, snapping at the mouse's throat. Miriam let go of the string to watch him with a subtle grin. She took far too much pleasure in watching the suffering of even the smallest of creatures.

Her cobalt eyes lifted from her pet and settled on her bondsman. "Ah, there you are!" she seemed genuinely happy to see him, and stood up to walk around the desk. "You're a cruel man to keep me waiting so long, Tor."

He scowled with a lowering of his brow as if to beg forgiveness, which Miriam always gave. Tor was perhaps the only living thing she found no fault in, he and Lucifer. That was the extent of her kindness and gentility.

"So, come now, let me see the little darling," so excited she seemed, no one would guess she'd seen and purchased the golden lizard this morning.

Tor held up the cage, the creature still cowering in a ball. Miriam opened the cage, reaching in without hesitation and gathering it up in her hands. She held it to her bosom, a plentiful perch to be sure, and petted its neck until it unfurled, looking up at her and blinking with a warbling sort of chirp.

"So beautiful," Miriam cooed. "What shall we call you? What do you think, Tor?"

A low rumbled came out of him as his only answer.

"Why that's stunning, Tor! Scylla; yes, that will be your name!" how she managed to translate anything out of that sound is beyond me. "Come, Scylla, let me introduce you to your new playmate." Miriam took her newest pet back to her desk, setting her down so Lucifer could see. The two reptiles spotted one another, stared for a seemingly long moment, and then flared their fleshy collars and hissed. With tails up as they circled, this sort of posturing went on for several minutes, one mimicking the other in a fashion that was very typical for their species. One might almost call it a courting ritual. Finally it stopped and the two began to sniff and nip at each other.

"A perfect match." Miriam sighed with hands clasped together at her cheek, sounding rather pleased with herself. "Wouldn't it be a wonder, Tor, if they had little babies? Perhaps by Spring," and she giggled.

After a moment Tor cleared his throat, perhaps wanting to draw his mistress's attention to her other purchase.

Miriam's eyes fell on Vanille and she felt herself shudder, a hard chill going up her back. The noble started towards her, gaze unyielding and filled with a strange concoction of smug contempt. Miriam wasn't as tall as her bondsman, but was at least a head taller than Vanille, and therefore looked down her nose at her. Vanille stiffened at the feel of Miriam's hand at her own chin, the tips of her finely manicured claws teasing between tickling and cutting. She tried to hold back the shaking, to not show fear, but it was so difficult. The noble's touch was cold, like she had no soul.

"Marco was right for a change," the noble's giddy demeanor had changed to something flattened, more critical, "you are rather pretty. Hmph." she almost sounded displeased as she continued to look Vanille over, circling only once.

Vanille tried to focus on something other than her eyes, like the whisper of fabric against stone as Miriam's wine red dress dragged the floor behind her. She was feeling the need to chew on her knuckle again, but she couldn't make herself move.

When Miriam came to face her again she stopped, reaching for the slave's wrists, eventually keeping hold of the one that wasn't stained with ink.

Vanille watched as Miriam brought her wrist closer to her mouth, the noble's grip tightening as her lips peeled back to reveal her fangs. Her natural instinct was to pull away, and she gave it an honest try until Tor put his arms around her and held her in place, one of his great hands tight around her forearm. That's when the shaking started to coincide with the sudden increase of her heartbeat.

Miriam could hear the racing of the girl's heart and resisted a smile. She hesitated for but a moment, waited for the fear to warm the blood, and then took a bite. She quickly disengaged, allowing the blood to flow from the fresh puncture marks. Normally vampires didn't do that, using their fangs not only to pierce the skin but to hold their prey in place. With a man like Tor, that was unnecessary, and she could take her time.

The pain came as a hot white spark up her arm, forcing Vanille to scream, tears forming in her eyes almost immediately. It radiated and spread, only worsening as Miriam lapped at the blood that seeped down her arm with satisfied groans. The slide of the vampire's tongue only served to aggravate the wounds, to make them burn, and that only grew as the noble closed her mouth around the marks and began to draw the blood straight from the veins. She began to feel cold, her heart struggling, her chest heaving for precious air, and a instinctual terror running rampant through her mind as her vision began to tunnel and blur.

Miriam reveled in the taste, so fresh, so rich, like chocolate. And she did love her sweets, almost as much as she seemed to enjoy watching the color steadily seep out of the slave's face, or how fear shimmered in her eyes before they began to flutter until they closed. That's when she decided she had taken enough. No need to kill it right away.

"Very nice," Miriam wiped the edges of her mouth with her fingertips and then licked them clean. "You know, it's almost unsettling how good slaves tend to taste." she said to Tor, who only nodded. Then she looked at Vanille slumped over, half conscious in the crook of Tor's arm. "So frail. Makes me glad I'm not human any longer."

Tor nodded again, but then lifted his brow as if to ask a question.

"Put it away for now." Miriam shrugged in passing. "I will have work for it come the morrow." and she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Then she returned to her desk.

Tor took his leave with a customary dip of his head, carrying the slave with him seeing as she was unable to walk at the moment. He went back into the antechamber, turning towards the left, towards another of the seven doors that opened to a downward, spiraling stairwell. Sunlight petered and dwindled into the insufficient glow of lanterns lining the rough stone walls, revealing the narrow corridor at the foot of the stairs.

Down here were the many store rooms needed to supply the villa with all of its needs, from fresh linens to fine wine fermenting in the cellars that were even lower than this floor. That was along only one side of this corridor, the other half, well...rumor mongers called it the dungeon. If only they knew they were right.

Vanille could feel the faint change of the air around her, now it was cold, damp, and heavy. She was overwhelmed with the sensation of dangling, like any second she would fall and that would be it, and a form of euphoria that was unfamiliar as well as undesirable. Had she the strength she would be right out terrified, but she barely had enough in her to find the tender _thump-thump_ of her own heart. She felt like she was dying, little by little, her life force leaking out of the twin punctures in her wrist.

The dungeon was just that, a dungeon. It was dark, dank, and was filled with this energy of hopelessness. Like there was no way out. In reality there wasn't, save the one door Tor pushed through to enter. With all the care and concern as one would show a sack of flour he set the slave down on the floor, ignoring the hard flinch she made from the cold stone touching her skin. He took the far end of the chain and pried the last link apart, hooking it onto an anchor in the wall before forcing it closed again. Then he left, the heavy lock on the door turning to close the bolt, the chime of metal on stone echoing through the room.

For the longest while Vanille simply sat there, stock still with the exception of breathing, her arms limp at her side and one hand spasming with lingering pulses of pain. There was the feeling of being stuck between awake and asleep, but the inability to shut your eyes. Perhaps out of fear, always only half lidded and aware, or maybe the bone deep ache that even breathing irritated. That, coupled with a tightening in her belly, and a dry throat, was the perfect recipe for a shitty time.

She couldn't remember a time when she had felt this bad. Even the flu hadn't laid her this low. But the flu didn't suck the life out of her, not so literally. There was a sense of violation in that fact that was near impossible for her to process. What sort of devil steals someone's blood? Every living thing needed to eat to survive, even parasites, but leeches with human skin? Sweet Jesus.

She wasn't alone down here, she realized after moment. Something else was here, something she couldn't see, but could hear. Something was writhing, alive and twisting in the dark with claws against stone. Something screeched, a sound like nails on a chalkboard mixed with a hiss and a desperate cry. Vanille couldn't see it from where she sat, it was simply too dark, but part of her didn't want to. Whatever it was surely wasn't human.

This was really happening. It finally settled in as reality, as if there wasn't enough evidence for that to begin with. All this time Vanille had been forcing it down, telling herself it wasn't really happening, that it would be over soon. Now that she had experienced the pain, that proverbial pinch, and woke up still right where she was, that was it. No more denial, no more unheard prayers.

But she wasn't going to give up, it was the only way she was going to live through this. No, jumping the fence, so to speak, wasn't an option. But sitting down with her thumb up her backside wasn't either. Day by day, she told herself over and over; day by day she would take this and find a way out. There was no guarantee anyone was going to come for her, so she needed to make it on her own. The idea was daunting, but there was no other choice.

Find the courage or die.

That was all she had.

Vanille didn't so much fall asleep as she passed out, the blood loss having taken its toll.

_(–)_

Helm and Dash sat on the edge of the bed, both of them seeming at a loss as they stared at the massive pile of raw crystal lying in the middle of the room.

"What should we do with it?" Dash wondered aloud.

"Sell it, of course."

"Well that's obvious," Dash rolled his eyes. "But how? How can we make the most money out of this?"

"We could break it up into smaller pieces, double our product." Helm sounded rather confident in the idea.

"Not everyone can use them that size." Dash countered. "Jewelers, maybe, but there aren't enough of them in the city to buy all of this. Why not sell it wholesale, by the pound?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"It would get us money sooner. It's in high demand right now and I seriously doubt the price will go much higher. Once the next mining season hits for that site, the price will drop due to greater supply."

Helm looked at Dash in a funny way.

"What?"

"I hate it when you're right. I can't argue with you when you're right." Helm huffed, his chin in one hand as he sulked. "So we sell it by the pound...to who? Wouldn't we need a permit for that?"

"Only if we were human and didn't live in the city. Since neither of those apply, we can do nothing but make a profit."

"I love that word, profit," Helm sounded contented now, "almost as good as 'boobs'."

"If you love breasts so much, why not take some money and get some for yourself?" Dash smirked.

Helm shook his head. "You're disgusting. Don't laugh! Think of me in a corset and keep laughing!"

"Saints alive!" Dash cringed. "You're right, that _is_ terrible. Lace isn't flattering for you at all!" but in spite of his disgust, he still laughed. "Although, maybe if it were blue,"

"Go eat a dick," and the only reason Helm said that was that he was trying to hide his own laughter. "But back to the matter at hand."

Dash calmed down after a few moments, rubbing tears from his eyes as he cleared his throat. "Yes, sorry about that. I would imagine we could go to the vendors, pitch our price, and take orders to deliver the next day."

"Well...if its the best option, its the best option. Should we start now? I mean, high market time is in an hour...it's long enough to get together what we need. And it'll be our last opportunity before it closes for the night."

"Yes, that's true."

"What's the price per pound right now?"

"I think it opened at," Dash looked up at the ceiling as if it had the answer. "Maybe fifty gold pieces a pound? Something like that."

"We should check in with the Quartermaster on our way through."

"Indeed." but that was only half. All things considered they could charge anything they wanted and still make a profit, but they weren't about to fork over the shirts on their backs. Maybe five or six gold pieces off the market price would be enough to entice the buyers. No more than ten.

"You know, I heard a funny rumor the other day," Helm said in passing as he stood up.

"While you were at the bar?"

"Where else would I hear anything?" he laughed. "I heard that statue you sold to Anowon wasn't a statue."

"Huh?" Dash lifted on eyebrow at his charge. "That's nonsense."

"Not so much, from what I've been told." Helm's smirk was smug, as if he finally knew something his sire did not. "You ever hear those stories about L'Cie becoming human again after turning to crystal?"

"Yes, I did." there were friends of his that had hung on every stray word of such stories, like it was their only hope. "You think those statues,"

"Would explain why one of them disappeared. But, with that being said, I think Anowon should've paid you more."

"Well, it's done and over with now, nothing more to be done about it. What happened to the girl then, if these rumors are to be believed?"

"He sold her anyway." Helm shook his head, pulling a leather vest across his back. "Don't know to who, don't much care really."

"It's a shame. Could've had myself a wife."

"You? Married?" Helm wouldn't believe it. "Besides, you can't marry a human, not here. It wouldn't be valid."

"I don't want to be here forever, Helm. At least I don't think so. And I would like the soft touch of a woman just like any other man."

"No, you just don't want to live in a dump forever. And the latter is something I can stand behind with you." Helm slipped on his boots and stood again. "Never mind it for now, though. We've got work to do."

"We do." Dash nodded with a sigh.

_(–)_

Miriam loved animals, more so than perhaps anything else. Well, it came in at a close second with money, the only reason being that she needed it to acquire more animals. So, I suppose they were interchangeable as her favorite thing.

When her sire had gifted her the villa she had almost the entire thing remodeled, entire wings torn down and rebuilt to satisfy her menagerie of living things. One had been committed solely to her populous of birds, an indoor aviary made up of steel and stained glass with openings at its far end that allowed the birds to fly into an outdoor extension. Still fenced in, but outside all the same.

In any case, there were hundreds of birds of all sizes and colors from all over Gran Pulse. They communed on the numerous steel and stone perches that nearly cluttered the chamber, some sitting on nests and others in rows of their own kind. They whistled and chirped, watching curiously as visitors often came and went. At the moment most of them were outside, seeming to take advantage of the steady rain that had moved into the city this morning.

Vanille had been in the aviary since before sunrise. Tor had come, seemingly in the middle of the night, and released the chain from the manacle around her neck. He then yanked her to her feet and shoved a wad of clothes into her arms. The material was tattered and rough, but she figured it was better than being naked. When he gestured with his hand for her to follow she did so quickly, knowing it wouldn't be conducive to her health to test him. Just looking at him murdered any thoughts of defiance she might have had.

"Tor, hold just a moment," Miriam's voice echoed through antechamber, making Vanille shudder. Out of some quiet instinct she put her hands behind her back. "I'm going to be out for a short while, I should be home before mid afternoon."

All this she said directly to Tor, then her chilling eyes shifted sharply downward to the slave beside him.

"For your own sake you had best behave." her tone was low, cutting, and Vanille couldn't look her in the face. "Just do as you're told, keep your mouth shut, and you'll live a little longer. Understand?"

She couldn't move.

"Good. I'll be back soon." and she patted her bondsman on his bare chest as she passed by. Once she was gone, the front door having slammed shut behind her, it was right back to business as Tor pushed her along.

Both of them stepped into the aviary, Vanille marveling momentarily at the sheer size of the room and the splendor of the glass ceiling. But the moment was brief as Tor was keen to keep her attention, turning her around to face him with a hard pull on her shoulder. He held something in his hand as she caught it moving in the corner of her eye, something small and oddly shaped. He lifted it for her to see. It looked to be a wooden mock up of a masonry tool, though she couldn't think of what it was called.

Beside them was one of the marble perches, and Tor tapped it with the edge of the object he held.

"Clean." was all he said before forcing it into her hand and leaving altogether.

At first she hadn't the slightest idea what he was talking about, but then it clicked. The entire room, from the moulding where marble met glass to the floor, was plastered, grouted, and probably held together with bird shit. And then the stench of it all hit.

One could only imagine the immense sense of joy that filled her.

And that's what she had been doing for the last four hours, starting with the perches and working her way down, scraping them clean. Some of these said perches were easily fifteen feet high and hazardous to scale, so much so that she wished, should she fall, that she land on her head. It would be quick and simple that way.

The perches took the better portion of three hours, most of that time consumed in just getting to the top of them, the rest in avoiding the numerous nests and the few birds that came back inside from the rain to find her intruding on their space. One parrot was particularly nasty about it, biting her on the ear and piercing clean through it with one hard pinch of its hooked beak. It didn't bleed very much, and it wasn't like she hadn't had her ear pierced before, so she was able to ignore it and keep working.

The following hour she spent on her hands and knees, scraping the floor tiles where she discovered the grout was actually black. By now the moderate ache in her knees was drowning out the empty tug in her stomach. Still she pushed on, half-consciously chanting in her head what Miriam said.

_Do as you're told, and you'll live a little longer._

And so long as she was alive, she had time to find a way out. It was a meager, bittersweet sense of hope, but it was far better than nothing.

The rain was getting worse as she was nearing the end of her task, the raindrops heavy and roaring against the glass overhead. A flash of lightning and a loud bang startled her for but a second, making her look up out of reflex. More birds were starting to come in from outside, gliding to their perches and nests. With so many different kinds of them so close by, Vanille couldn't help but stop just a moment to look at them. One, out of the apparent dozens, caught her attention. A blackbird a fraction of its cousin's size, with brilliant splashes of red and gold on its shoulders. She remembered seeing it before, but the memory was distant and half formed, and she decided to leave it be for now.

It wasn't until after she had finished that Tor came back. If the door hinges hadn't whined she wouldn't have noticed him at all. She even tried to find his footsteps as he drew close to her and couldn't. Vanille decided then and there that it just wasn't natural for anyone to be that quiet.

Now he had a push broom in one hand clearly showing intent to give it to her. She attempted to trade off, give him the little scraping tool in exchange, but he wouldn't take it. He only pointed.

"Outside."

She turned her head to see the door he was pointing out, the only access humans had to the outdoor enclosure. Resisting the urge to complain about the terrible weather, she took the broom with a quiet sigh and went along without a word. Tor left again, sure to come back later.

After giving the aviary a once over with the broom, gathering all the filth into a pile, she opened the door. A gust of wet air rushed over her, cold and accompanied by a few small rain drops. All she could do really was scowl, her brow heavy over her eyes as she stepped out into the downpour.

_You'll live a little longer._

She just had to keep telling herself that. Soaking wet and shivering, it was the only thing she had to keep her going. Rain and thunder be damned, she was going to get through this.

Yes, ice cold rain that felt like rubber bullets and bee stings be damned. And the weather stayed just as shitty until a little after noon.

When Tor did return, some time around one, he found the slave just walking in from the outdoor enclosure. She looked to be shaking too hard to stand, but had somehow managed to stay upright on scrawny, knocking knees. If he were anyone else he would have laughed at how much she resembled a wet rat, hair and clothes matted to her body and dripping. Her expression was one of cold loathing, her green eyes boring through him. Not that he felt that, mind you, or much less cared. In fact he had a rather long, mental list of things that he didn't care for, and at the very bottom were humans and their feelings.

He took the broom from her and gestured with one hand for her to follow. There was still more work to be done, and his mistress wouldn't be very pleased if she returned to find it only half finished.

Speak of the devil and she appears.

Miriam came into the antechamber just as they were walking through it, flipping her hair with her hands to shake free any stray rain drops. Wherever she had been, whatever she was doing, she had to have enjoyed it. You could tell by her cheerful demeanor, the smile that wouldn't go away and allowed her fangs to show.

"There's the man of the house, I was just about to come and find you."

Vanille found it curious when the bondsman scowled as he looked down at his mistress, as if he smelled something he didn't like.

"Don't make such a face," Miriam pouted, her hands flat against his stomach. "A girl needs her options."

Her excuse didn't soothe his hard expression, the narrowing of his eyes. Still, she continued to smile, seemingly unaffected by the titanic sourpuss.

"Are you and your new playmate getting along?" she laughed.

"Slowly." and he eased his head towards the slave behind him.

"Oh, well, it'll just have to pick up the pace, won't it?" Miriam slanted her eyes towards the girl as well, lifting her eyebrows and causing Vanille to shrink slightly. Then she turned her attention back to her bondsman. "Is the aviary finished? Good, I was beginning to miss my babies. What's on the agenda now?"

Tor made a sound, nothing that resembled a word, but somehow Miriam understood.

"Oh dear, this late? Goodness, they'll be starving." and she sighed heavily, appearing genuine in her dismay. "Well, best get a move on then. Come to my office afterwards."

Tor dipped his head in acknowledgment, Miriam moving on and allowing him to do the same. Vanille followed him back downstairs, thinking briefly she might be going back into the dungeon, but that feeling dissipated when he opened a different door.

It was the kitchen, and the warmest room in the villa. It was almost too hot, but when your wet and shivering, nothing is too hot. The fire in the hearth looked good enough to lay in.

The cook handed off a large basket to Tor, who in turn handed it to Vanille. The weight of it surprised her and she almost dropped it. Thankfully she didn't, a little spark of terror in her stomach as her hands pulled it secure against her chest. She looked into it to find the basket full of chunks and slabs of raw meat, some of them still bloody. Chicken, beef, and what appeared to be some organs as well.

Tor reached into the basket and pulled out the largest piece, the rear leg of a young calf.

"This goes to Sheba." Tor said flatly. "You will know which one she is." Then he set it back down and pushed her out the door.

Back up the stairs and through the antechamber once more, Tor led her outside, to the rear of the villa which was just as grand the front.

More marble greeted them on the patio, and at the center of the arrangement was a fountain which was just below Miriam's office. Strings of ivy circled the fountain and lily pads floated across the rippling surface. But no frogs. Miriam hated them. Slimy little buggers.

Passed the fountain was a set of steps leading down into the garden, a less intentional arrangement compared to its twin in the front. Everything was growing wild, bushes, large trees, and it spanned over as much acreage as the villa itself. And it was closed in by a wall about fifteen feet high.

Vanille looked around, enjoying the scenery, but only so much. She was trying to find whatever it was she was supposed to be feeding, but couldn't find a hint of anything. Then again, one could only imagine what could be hiding in there.

"They're to be fed by hand." was the last thing Tor said before leaving. Hearing the door close and the latch turn over from where she stood made her heart sink a little. Why did she have the distinct feeling she was being thrown to the wolves, so to speak?

If only it were wolves.

Vanille swallowed hard, feeling like a target to unseen eyes, and started down the stairs. And, naturally, carrying a load of raw meat brought her no comfort either. Might as well pin a hundred gil note to her backside and scream "victim here, victim here".

Deeper into the garden she went and still no sign of anything. She happened to spy a set of footprints in the mud, but that was it. She could feel something was there, to be sure there was, but half the terror in being hunted is being unable to see your predator.

Something moved above her.

Vanille froze, drawn to the sound of something scraping the bark of an overhead limb. She met a pair of amber eyes, slitted and fixed on her. The large cat stalked out onto the limb, coming into the fragmented light that seeped through the higher branches.

It had a bobbed tail and tufted ears, tipped in black while the rest of it was a dark gray and accented white in the face. It had large paws, claws that didn't seem to retract all the way as it crouched. It watched the human with genuine intent, wanting what the girl carried.

Then another appeared just behind the first, peering over its twin's shoulders to have a look. Slowly but surely more wild cats appeared, and steadily grew in size. Several dozen emerged out of the trees alone, and more, larger ones were peaking through the bushes and ferns, gemstone eyes shimmering as they observed her.

And yes, they were wild indeed, only socialized to one person. But Vanille was not that person. You could cut the tension with a knife, all of it emanating from the lone human among the beasts.

Vanille could only bite her tongue and hope for the best as she began to feed them, starting with the smaller, less intimidating ones. They took what she handed them and disappeared, for the most part anyway, while others would often swat at her hand and bite it before taking anything. Their fangs were sharp, but they would barely put honest pressure behind it, making the gesture more of a curious test than an aggressive assault on a stranger. Only one scratched her with enough force to draw blood, and only because she held the meat longer than it liked. Three tiny cuts on the back of her hand.

The larger cats came out of hiding as their smaller neighbors started to disappear. The first was a large tiger, its stripes in reverse, orange on black, with piercing white eyes. Its pupils narrowed on her, its nostrils flared as it licked its chops. Her first thought was to kneel, to become as small as possible. Why? There was no telling. But the feeling didn't ease as more of them crept out of the plentiful foliage. A black jaguar, a pair of twin female panthers with tusks hanging from their top jaw, and a pale gray leopard with very large paws and tufts between its toes. They formed a semi-circle around her as if to show their impatience.

Just do it, Vanille told herself. Just do it and be done. No need to be afraid.

Good one. Just keep telling yourself that and it'll be true. Just like that broad with the ruby slippers.

Everything went so fast, too fast for her to feed them by hand as she was told. Well, Tor wasn't watching...at least she hoped he wasn't. Vanille found herself shoved aside by solid feline bodies, onto her backside in the mud. She didn't dare move until they were finished, returning to wherever they had been hiding before now satisfied. Slowly she went to her hands and knees, sighing with a mild sense of relief and meaning to stand. Yes, meaning to, until she lifted her eyes and they were met with another pair. They were the color of hammered gold with flecks of pale blue, and they seemed to go right through her.

Tor was right, she would know when she saw Sheba.

Sheba was a massive creature, the largest wild cat Vanille had ever seen. Thin phantom stripes lined her tan and white body, a frame that stretched nearly thirteen feet long from nose to tail. Her head alone was the size of a human torso, limbs not withstanding. Her paws were almost as large, black claws hidden within plush white tufts. A leather collar decorated in fine jewels circled Sheba's thick neck, one of the few of Miriam's pets to carry such finery.

Vanille felt the reflex to shrink again, but reigned it in with a quiet, slow breath. Just another big kitty, just like the rest. Feed her and she'll go away. A sense of calm confidence came over her. Then it was gone like a match flame when she looked into the basket to find it empty.

Oh gods, it was empty.

She thought to make an excuse as panic shrouded her, as if this monster puss would understand anything she had to say. Lord knows she tried, nothing but stammering babble came out, but it was an honest effort. Sheba began stepping steadily forward, covering a human's full stride in one step. Vanille could only think to crawl away, never mind the mud smearing all over her palms and backside. Her heart started pounding, a low growl erupting as Sheba's lips peeled back, lethal and beautiful fangs revealed.

Vanille shut her eyes tight, holding her breath and praying for it to be quick. Whatever was coming. Just be quick.

Author's Note: I'm steadily feeling better about this. I understand this chapter was big on filler, but I kind of needed it to be. Next chapter won't be much different, so don't get your hopes up, although I intend for there to be a great deal more drama than this. I would imagine most of you can guess what's coming, so hopefully I can make a miracle and at least entertain if not surprise you.

Next chapter, I announce tentatively, Vanille discovers the heart behind the slave trade as well as a possible hope of escape.


	10. Chapter IX

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Nine**

Vanille could feel two of Sheba's great paws sinking into mud on either side of her, felt the hot puffs of breath from the Liger's mouth. She had no heart to open her eyes and see just how close the animal was to her, or how far it had parted its jaws to swallow her head. It probably could if it tried. The sense of impending doom was paralyzing, and if she was aware of Sheba's nasty habit of tearing apart slaves for fun, it would've stopped her heart outright.

A brush of whiskers.

A low growl.

The moist warmth of a heavy breath.

And then...

Sheba shied in a sudden twist of heavy muscle and a snarl, rearing back and turning away as something struck her across the nose. Something heavy hit the ground nearby while the Liger went after the offending object, which turned out to be her much desired calf's leg.

Vanille had flinched sharply with a curt shriek at Sheba reacting, curling her arms and legs close around her in a defensive posture fueled by the last dwindling hope that it would be enough to keep her alive. Fear faded into confusion as she slowly opened her eyes, finding herself still in one piece. She relaxed, dumbfounded as she watched Sheba stalk out of sight.

She rolled onto her hands and knees again, her head hanging as she rode out her own frantic heartbeat. She just couldn't understand how she could have lost her courage, when at one time she had gone toe to toe with some of Pulse's and Eden's greatest terrors and stood strong. Perhaps when her brand had vanished, it took her mettle with it.

A hand fell on her shoulder. A hand, not a paw with gripping, tearing claws; a hand she was rather sure wasn't large enough to be Tor's. Cautiously she lifted her head, unsure of what she would see. It was a young man, surprisingly human. Warm brown eyes demanded her immediate focus, and vibrant blond hair framed his face, matted with the past rain. On all fours he crouched beside her and his mouth was set in a curious smirk.

"You all right?" all that came out of his mouth was a raspy whisper of a voice.

For a moment she didn't answer, then shook her head. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Thank you." When her senses returned to normal she looked him over. He didn't look much older than herself, nearly naked save for a loin cloth covering the essentials and a manacle around his neck. Somehow Vanille had the feeling that the only reason he appeared so clean, is that he'd been outside during the storm.

"Did she scratch you?" he touched the back of her hand lightly with his fingers, causing her to flinch.

"What? No, no, she didn't." she recoiled her hand against her chest, able to feel the hard thrumming of her heart. She forced herself to calm down now that she was out of any immediate danger. For the time being at least. When at last she was able to focus, she looked at her apparently savior rather crookedly, as if to wonder what part of thin air he had appeared out of. "Who are you?"

"Nobody," he laughed, shaking his head a bit. "Haven't seen you before. First day?"

Vanille nodded, her curiosity having yet to disappear. "What's wrong?" and she gestured towards him in reference to his voice.

He tipped up his chin, seemingly unashamed to reveal the atrocious scar nestled in the hinge of where his jaw met his throat. It nearly reached from ear to ear and was bright pink. It was aged, but it had been severe when given. How he survived was beyond her.

"Didn't heal right." was his only explanation.

"What happened?" never mind how rude she would think herself later.

"Ran my mouth a bit too far for the madam's taste." shockingly he laughed about his misfortune, and his tone at the mention of Miriam suggested he only used that word in exchange for a more profane one he didn't wish to voice in the presence of a pretty girl. Good God, am I getting wordy.

Vanille only allowed her imagination to elaborate on his reply for but a moment, shivering. "Why haven't I seen you before?"

"I've been hiding out here. I think she's forgotten all about me, really." he cleared his throat mid-sentence. "I'll take my chances with the animals." and he coughed again. "You won't rat me out, will you?" excuse the pun.

She shook her head swiftly back and forth. No, she didn't know him from Adam, but she wasn't going to screw him over. "So...you live out here?"

"If you can call it living. I've been trying to find a way out for a few weeks now."

"Any luck?" the question came out as a sort of hopeless whimper.

"Clearly not." he laughed to stifle a cough.

Somehow she knew he would say that, so there was no genuine disappointment in hearing it. Vanille felt a little heavier in the shoulders, but that was all. All she could think to do was shrug.

"Where are you from?" he rasped.

"Oerba."

"Where's that?"

"Far from here," that was for certain. "What about you?"

"I was born here in the city. Never been free a day in my life."

Vanille felt her heart lurch for him. She couldn't imagine someone living their whole life like this, when she had just barely managed to make it one day.

"I can see why she bought you."

Part of her wanted to feel insulted, though she wasn't sure why. She bit it back, showing curiosity on her face. Once she found a brief moment to think it over more carefully, what he said became laughable.

"How do you figure?"

"You're young, pretty, full of energy," he began, no flattery intended, "it's what she feeds on. I think she's convinced it keeps her young, never mind that her kind stay young no matter what they eat."

"She's just an evil witch if you ask me." Vanille lowered her head, scowling.

"No, no," he countered, "you mispronounced it; it's '_bitch'_. Say it with me,"

Vanille couldn't help but laugh, but only so long. The idea of time came over her suddenly, as did the fear that Tor would return any minute now to look for her. Honestly, that man put the fear of God in her.

"I should get back," her voice belied her unease. "I've been out here too long."

He stood up straight, smirking, appearing to look over the hedges and ferns towards the fountain. Clearing his throat again he looked down at her.

"I don't think she's noticed." and he pointed.

Vanille found it in her to stand, knees shaking a bit from lingering adrenaline and anxiety. Now straightened, she turned to see what he was pointing at. Almost immediately her gaze settled on the stained glass window, the one with the peacock, and was able to make out certain shapes and colors that weren't supposed to be there. Two pairs of hands, one creamy white and the other gray, and the pressed globes of a naked backside. Vanille felt her jaw slacken when all the pieces came together in her head.

"Safe to say she isn't missing you right now." his laughter resembled dry leaves against pavement. "But, if I know Tor, it won't be long before she does." And hearing that only served to redden Vanille's face that much more. Half of her couldn't believe he said that, the other half couldn't believe how he could possibly know something so intimate. Then there was that curious part of her that couldn't help but stare a bit.

"Best get used to it now," he said, noticing the look on Vanille's face. "It happens quite a bit."

Vanille cringed, forcing herself not to think about it.

"You really _aren't_ from around here," he sounded reassured, as if he hadn't believed it before.

"I wasn't lying."

"Sorry about that." his tone softened to a whisper. "I just...people tend to come and go in here."

Her brow tightened in the middle. "What do you mean?"

"Just that. Here one day and gone the next. Can't say I know what happens to them, but it's not uncommon for folks to just disappear."

That filled her with a new sense of dread. Would she disappear too? Never heard from again and without a trace? That was easily more terrifying than Tor, more than Miriam. If she...Fang would never know. Vanille felt herself starting to shake and the urge to bite her knuckle with no reason good enough to hold it back.

He caught her hand by the wrist as it eased towards her mouth, finger near extended. "Hey, don't lose hope. Chances are good that she'll keep you a while yet," he made it sound like that was a genuinely good thing, "long enough for me to find a way out. Could you manage that?"

The uncertainty she felt deep in the pit of her stomach was clear as day on her face, in the tightened creases in her forehead and around her eyes. A stark contrast to his expression, one of confidence and the desire to do some good. One would think him almost unhealthy in his optimism, what with his being a life-long slave and all that. Perhaps the idea of having absolutely nothing to lose but your life kept things in a perspective that most just couldn't see.

"And I could probably do it faster knowing someone was depending on me." he added softly with the same smirk he was wearing before. "So what do you say, could you try?"

Without a second thought she nodded, albeit somewhat cautiously. "I could try."

His smirk grew into a full smile, his eyes suddenly diverting away from her and in the direction of the fountain. "Ah, just as I thought. You best be going now."

Vanille felt a mild surge of panic, her heart rate spiking and her thoughts scattering. "What about you?"

"I'll still be here." he laughed as he stepped away. "You'll see me again, I'm sure. Don't worry." and then he was gone with a rustle of foliage, almost like he'd never been there at all.

Had that actually happened? Vanille asked herself this over and over as she made her way out of the garden, picking up the discarded basket as she went. The encounter had been somewhat surreal, or maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. Maybe she just wanted to hope too much for something good.

_"No. Everything is going to be okay. He will help me. _I'm_ going to be okay."_

And she held on to that promise as Tor appeared to take her back inside the villa. Tighter still was her grasp on that dwindling hope when night fell and terror swamped her, Miriam having come to feed on her once again. Even as she lay in the darkness of the dungeon, weak and hungry to the point of pain, she found the strength to cling to it. And with that firmly in her heart, she dared to think tomorrow as simply another day, something she could survive.

As she slept she dreamed, a mismatched flurry of images and sounds. The only constant was the blackbird she recalled from the aviary, and brilliant smudges of color on its shoulders. It kept coming back to her, reassuring its familiarity in spite of her lack of ability to realize it. And it would only continue to elude her for the next several days. Most of which were very typical. Get up, clean something, repeat as needed, get sucked near to death, and be put away until further notice. Nothing new, nothing comparatively out of the ordinary.

Although Miriam finally saw it fit to feed her when she realized Vanille's blood wasn't tasting as vibrant as she thought it should. It wasn't much, just scraps from the dinning table the night before, but it was more than nothing. It was just enough to ease the knotted pain in her stomach.

The next three weeks went by in a sort of haze, the days blending together, going from one chore to the next. Day and night became irrelevant as she went almost automatically about the villa, doing as she was told, a touch of paranoia keeping her pace steady in spite of any weariness. And she was weary indeed. But the mere idea of Tor's shadow falling over her was enough to ensure she didn't terry long on any given task.

In all this time she had yet to come any closer to remembering where the blackbird came from. It was so familiar and yet so distant from her mind. The frustration was near endless, only growing every time she saw the creature. However, she refused to quit, regarding it with the care of a possible escape route. Perhaps a plan B.

As for plan A, well, it came and went. Vanille and the young slave hiding in the garden didn't meet regularly, taking what time they could manage to discuss their escape. The progress was meager, at times nonexistent. Some days all they had accomplished was wasting time. Which, over nearly a month's time, had accumulated into quite a lot. Time wasted, hope diminished.

"How's the search coming?" Vanille asked quietly, as if someone might be listening as she fed one of the smaller cats its share of meat.

"I'm working on it." it was the answer he always gave, regardless of its truth.

Vanille shrugged, having heard that before and believing it less every time.

"Sorry it's taking so long...I certainly didn't expect it to."

"I know, it's okay." but he could tell by the tone of her voice that it wasn't.

He felt his heart lurch as her face darkened with the loss of faith. He'd been alone so long, had only himself to worry about, perhaps he'd forgotten how it felt to have someone suffer due to his own shortcomings. With a creased brow he lowered his head, shameful. Then he stretched an arm across her back, gripping her shoulder.

"Don't give up on me." his throat was tight, like he was about to cry, but it could have been the natural malformation of scar tissue that propagated the illusion. "I know it's tough, believe me. But you can't give up."

Vanille turned her head, looking at him with a faint smile attempting at the edge of her mouth. "I won't. But it's difficult, like you said." Part of her was convinced it couldn't get much worse.

"Everything'll be okay." and, in a surprising show of reassurance, kissed her forehead. The way her face reddened made him laugh. "What about you? Have you found anything?"

Once the heart-fluttering novelty of his affection passed, her mind straightened. "I dunno...maybe."

"Well?"

It was a chance she could afford to take, maybe he would know. "Have you seen that blackbird in the aviary? The one with the red shoulders?"

He put his bottom lip between his teeth, his brow scrunching in thought. "Oh yeah, those; they're all over the city, actually."

"What are they?"

"I see them flying back and forth over the garden all the time. I think they carry messages for folks that own them."

His reply processed in her mind bit by bit. And then it clicked.

She remembered.

"Something wrong?" he noticed odd look on her face, how her eyes widened so suddenly, and grew concerned.

"No. I think something might actually be right for a change." renewed hope blossomed in her as she stood up. "But I have to go."

He didn't want her to leave, but his wants were a luxury neither of them could rightly afford. "Keep in touch, yeah?"

"When I can." was the only answer she felt confident in giving. Then she hurried out of the garden and back inside.

Vanille wouldn't be able to return to the aviary until the next day, giving her all night to piece together the once elusive memories she had of the blackbird. The more she thought about it the more she understood her mind's stubbornness to recollect them. It had been five hundred years since she had seen one.

They were prevalent in Oerba back then, seemingly all over the place no matter where you looked, and had been there for as long as anyone could remember. So, naturally when you have a staple figure such as that in the environment, folklore is bound to form around it. Over time, perhaps a century, it became a widely accept fact that the blackbirds were special, some of the stories saying they were spirits of the dead come back to watch their surviving loved ones, and others suggesting they had a direct link to the gods themselves. In some circles they were feared, and in others revered.

Vanille could recall many such stories being told to her growing up, all the while unsure of which ones to believe. There was no real evidence in favor of either side. Perhaps now was the time to remedy that.

Tor arrived to fetch her at the usual time, just before dawn, forcing a large bag full of seed into her arms and giving her a shove to get her moving. By now she knew what to do with it so he didn't feel the need to follow her around so closely. Not so much anymore. I severely doubt it was out of trust, and most likely that he was convinced that he'd scared her enough to ensure her servitude.

Per routine Tor locked her in, leaving him free to service the lady of the house as ordered. Yeah, ordered, right, like she had to. Chasing Miriam's tail was the only thing the vampire had a passion for, so needless to say he would do anything to please her. And rest assured she saw to it that he did. But that's off topic.

Vanille started straight away, laying swaths of seed across the floor and watching as the birds came flocking down. Ever vigilant for the blackbird, it wasn't long before she spotted of flurry of black and red. She saw to it that the other birds were pacified before making a move. She didn't expect them to be so comfortable around her, barely flinching or fleeing when she passed them. Then again, it wasn't so atypical for anything skiddish to become warm towards the hand that feeds them.

With a handful of seed she knelt down beside where the two blackbirds had gathered. They didn't seem to mind her much, as if they didn't notice her at all. They didn't move outside of the motions necessary to eat until she eased her hand forward, making one of them hop sideways with a curt squawk. She held still, waiting with bated breath that this would work.

Vanille bit her bottom lip, controlling her reaction as the bird eased closer to her. It looked sideways from her hand, to her, and back again. It tentatively sampled the seed in her hand, testing to see if it was any better than the feed on the floor. She could feel her heart pounding in anticipation. What was it going to do?

She was able to breathe again when the blackbird finally decided to privilege her with its attention, perching on the curl of her thumb as it pecked at the seed. Slowly, carefully, she stood up, praying silently in her head that it wouldn't fly away. Pressing her luck she chanced to pet it, and again she was graced with the bird's tolerance. Vanille could feel her confidence building. This just might actually work.

With slow, steady steps she made her way to the door leading outside. The blackbird remained where it perched as she stepped out, the sunlight gleaming of its sable feathers as she came into the light. Now came the hard part, and uncertainty threatened to settle in.

With the stories of the blackbirds being a link to the gods, other stories surfaced out of that belief. The gods could see everything, nothing could be hidden from them and some went so far as to think the birds responsible for that. With that being said, it wasn't long before rumors spread of the birds being able to find someone or something you've lost, or to deliver a message as they do in Arash. It was very simple to do.

Just say your loved one's name as you would an intimate request, looking the blackbird right in the eye, and then release it with a prayer to the gods. There had been those who would attest to its validity, and just as many who would argue against it. It was a crap shoot at best, but there was nothing to lose in the long run, right?

In the floor at the far end of the outdoor enclosure was a heavy metal panel. Beneath it was an empty shaft that opened up outside of the wall. This is where Vanille had been sweeping all the bird droppings, where they fell into a rubbish heap at the foot of the wall. It was too far a drop for anyone to imagine escaping from, but it was perfect for a bird to fly through.

With the latch open, a knot forming in her throat, Vanille eased the blackbird close to her face, waiting for their eyes to meet. This was it.

"Please," she began, almost unable to speak, "find Fang. Tell her where I am." she stroked the blackbird's head, mostly to comfort herself. "Help Fang find me."

Feeling satisfied with her request, like she had done everything she could, Vanille knelt down beside the opened hatch and lowered her hand. As if on cue the blackbird took flight, down the shaft and out into the open air for, perhaps, the first time in its life. Off it went, quickly disappearing as it flew away. Vanille put her hands together, crossing her index fingers and her pinkies in a ritualistic fashion, whispering a tiny prayer to whatever god was listening._ Fly safe, fly far, fly swift._

Vanille felt her hope restored as she left the aviary, though that was doubly coupled by a surge of guilt and self suspicion. She was counting down the seconds until Tor or Miriam noticed something, a twitch, an averted glance, that might give her away for what she had done.

A day went by without so much as a leery glare from her owner or the bondsman.

And another day...

And another...

A week passed and nothing happened. The tension eased, the paranoia dissipated, the whistle of a dodged bullet was a distant memory. She was almost elated, feeling like she had accomplished a great feat. Like getting away with murder.

Now a month into her tenure, Vanille had a sense of confidence in her that she hadn't had in weeks. And it was showing as she went into the garden to feed the animals once again, half of her eagerly waiting for the young man to appear. And he did without fail, creeping silently down from one of the trees, perching on a lower branch beside one of the bob-tailed felines. Gripping the limb tightly he fell forward, now upside down.

Vanille knew he was there but couldn't resist jumping a little when she saw him topsy-turvy like that.

"Well look at you," he rasped after clearing his throat. "All sunshine and kitten farts."

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" she giggled.

"Just a phrase." he shook his head, turning himself right side up and touching down on the ground. "But really, what's got you all up and perky? What about that blackbird idea we talked about before?"

Her guilty conscience came back for a brief second, just in time for her pride to swoop in and rescue her temperament.

"Did you try it?"

She could only nod as she focused on the larger cats starting to crowd around her.

"Did it work?" his expression was anxious, eager for an answer even if it wasn't one he wanted to hear.

"I think so." her reply was hesitant, surprisingly unsure. "It's sort of one of those... 'wait and see' kind of plans."

His face flattened, more so from disappointment than confusion. "I...I was under the impression we didn't have time to wait and see."

"It was the best I could think of." Vanille felt all of her confidence bottom out through her feet. "I mean...we've made it this far, right?"

"Luckily, yes." he would have said more were it not for the need to clear his throat again.

"Well, it's been a week," she kept her eyes averted, as if she had just realized what a big mistake she'd made and was ashamed, "for all we know Fang could come tomorrow and-,"

"Who?"

She swallowed and turned to face him, the basket now empty and leaving her without an excuse to avoid him. "My sister...I sent the blackbird to find her."

The disappointment turned to near disgust. "You're serious?"

Clearly he thought she had done something stupid, she could tell by the way he looked at her, his eyes narrowed. "What else could I do? Nothing?"

"I suppose...when you put it like that," he scratched the back of his head. And the shrug that came shortly after belied his desire to say something more truthful, but more harsh as well. "But let's be realistic; we can't put all our hope in someone who may never get here."

She knew that, knew it damn well enough, but didn't want to accept that just yet. Fang would come. But he was still right in a way.

"So what else do we have?" Vanille gave a defeated sight.

"I think I've found a place where we could jump the wall. I can't do it by myself, but it's possible if we worked together."

"Not in broad daylight,"

"Hell no. Even though the trees block it out, we'll have to wait until after dark." he finished matter-of-factly. "Once we get over..."

His pause was too long, she had to ask. "What then?"

"Maybe we could get out through the city's water system. There are grates in the streets... they have to open up somewhere outside the barrier wall."

So, by all rights, his plan had about as much chance of success as her own, perhaps a fraction more at most. Even less than that once she had a moment more to think it through.

"I get locked up at night." she remembered. "I doubt I could find a way to sneak out."

"Shit." he growled.

"You'll just have to go without me. I mean, you said she didn't know you were here, right? She won't notice you've gone."

"I can't get over that wall without you."

"Maybe one of the bigger cats-,"

"I'm not leaving you here, end of discussion." his interjection was firm, convicted, surprising. "We can make this work, we've just got to wait for the right time." and he cleared his throat with a hard cough.

She would've felt flattered by his sense of devotion to her, but not when she was more overwhelmed by the idea of the amount of chance they were taking to see his plan through. Everything would have to be perfect for them to pull this off. The margin for error was nonexistent. Maybe the gods would be feeling generous.

"All we can do is wait." it wasn't a question, it was a vocalized fact. One that Vanille begrudgingly recognized.

"I know. But, with any luck, it won't be long. Just have some faith."

She nodded, her expression darkening as she released a pitiful sigh. "I need to get going."

"I'll see you again, yeah?"

She could only hope. Being a slave meant not knowing what was coming from one minute to the next, and that you were guaranteed nothing. That much she was fairly certain of, and she dreaded what else there was for her to learn.

Unfortunately, the next lesson was just around the corner.

Vanille worked until sunset, as was the usual routine. The light died away from the skylights in the dome, the room darkening as she pushed a mop across the polished floor. Tor would be along to light the lamps soon, giving her an opportunity to finish. He came, just as she predicted, but not to light the lamps.

The bondsman snatched the mop from her and shoved her in the direction that he'd come. A shove that was harder than normal, she noticed. Was he angry? Could he even express emotions other than none at all?

Through the stained glass door and up the stairs he pushed, remaining a breath behind her even as they entered Miriam's office. There the mistress sat, atop her desk with her legs crossed, casually smoking a cigarette through an ivory stem. Both Scylla and Lucifer slithered around her, eyeballing their new visitors.

"There you are." Miriam's voice wasn't the typical, corrosive confectionery as Vanille had half-expected. In fact, the solemnity in the vampire's tone was startling. That feeling certainly didn't ebb when Vanille realized Miriam's cobalt eyes had settled on her. Panic quietly crept into her chest, a tight pressure that made her heart race.

Miriam knew. That had to be why she was here.

This was it.

The noble slid off the desk, heels clicking against marble as she began to walk. As she drew closer, Vanille could feel herself shrinking. Her instinct was to step away, to retreat, but she knew there was an eight foot wall of solid vamp right behind her.

Miriam stood only inches from Vanille when she came to a stop, blowing a full lung of smoke into her slave's face.

"You know," she began with a low, almost gentle tone and began to circle in slow, calculated steps, "I granted you a fairly long leash when I brought you here. I thought you looked intelligent. Shame on me I suppose."

Miriam's body language was sedate, but somehow Vanille knew better. She could almost sense that the noble was on the verge of combustion, like a leaky damn that had one too many holes in it.

"How long, hm? How long did you think it would take me to notice?" the question sounded simply for the sake of knowing, not at all like the rhetorical chastising it really was.

Vanille swallowed hard, knowing to say a single word was the last thing she should do.

Miriam continued a semi-circle pattern in front of her, back and forth, quietly for a moment. Then she stopped, facing her again.

"I love my animals very much," fresh smoke billowed between her fangs, "_certainly_ much more so than you. But I would be willing to venture a guess that even someone as dim as yourself could appreciate how awful it was for me to discover one of them missing. Do you?" the vampire leaned forward, her nose almost touching her slave's. "Are the cogs in that _simple_. _Mortal_. _Brain_. _Turning_?" she accentuated each word with a hard prod of her finger to Vanille's forehead, doing so with enough force to push the girl flush against her bondsman.

"Why did you do it?" the noble straightened, her head dipping to one side as her tone changed to something almost childlike. "There's no way my precious blackbird could have escaped on its own, so you had to have done it intentionally. So why?"

_Keep your mouth shut...you'll live a little longer_...

Did that even apply at this point?

"_WHY_?" Miriam screamed, lunging forward eyes wide and lips flared to reveal fangs. Her hands clutched into tight fists, shaking as her chest swiftly went up and down. Vanille cowered, pressing back against Tor as if thinking he could be a shield against her. Her body tightened and she began to tremble, finding no shame in her fear.

And then, just like that, the rage was gone. The noble straightened again, cleared her throat, and took a hit from her cigarette.

"Actually," Miriam exhaled slowly, "never mind why. It doesn't much matter because, well," she advanced again. She leaned forward just so, presenting her empty hand, palm up. "Do you see this?"

Vanille's eyes frantically shifted up and down, not entirely sure what was going on.

"Do you see it?"

Finally she just nodded. Then her head jerked to one side, hot pain radiating through her face as Miriam's hand collided with her cheek. She fell to the floor with the force of the blow, her forehead striking briefly against marble. The burning didn't stop, forcing her to put a hand to the pain. Her fingertips came back sticky and red after touching just beside her left eye.

"_That_ was a handful of all the _FUCKS I DON'T GIVE_!" Miriam had bent down so she might scream in the slave's ear, certain she would hear. "You _actually_ think I care one _single_ _i-o-ta_ about what was going through that empty head of yours?"

Stay down, Vanille told herself, just stay down.

Miriam was breathing heavy again, through flared nostrils, the noise echoed through the room. She glared daggers into the back of the pitiful mortal curled up on the floor, disgusted and full of so much rage. She wanted to wring the damnable whelp's throat, just grip her tightly and shake until she stopped moving. The smell of her blood banked the fury, but only just so. It didn't ease the near irresistible urge to hit the worthless thing again, and again, and again.

Finally, after several tense moments, Miriam took a deep, slow breath. She tapped the stem of her cigarette, ashes and embers falling, and then took a hit from it. A gesture of her hand, and Tor reached down and lifted Vanille off the floor, putting her on her feet. He kept his hands firm around her arms to hold her still.

Miriam smirked as lamplight made the half-congealed blood on Vanille's face glisten. Without a word she reached out, smearing the redness with one finger, and then licked it clean.

"You're right to be afraid." she could taste it in the blood. The heightened adrenaline, the panic. "Because the fact remains that you disobeyed me, and disobedience must be discouraged. Now...if it were up to me, I'd put you down. Kill you where you stand, but..." the ultimatum was coupled with a listless sort of sigh. "I don't imagine you would learn anything, and I'm not quite in the mood to go shopping for another one of you disgusting worms. Punishment will just have to suffice." she almost sounded disappointed with her own decision.

Tor yanked Vanille around and lead her on by the arm, out of the office, and down the stairs at the silent behest of his mistress. The fear wasn't going away, it only changed form. Vanille shifted from being terrified of her owner, to being spineless in the shadow what was to come, something she didn't know and couldn't predict. Like Russian Roulette. Although I would imagine a gun to be far more merciful than Miriam could ever even pretend to be.

Through the rotunda and through the door that she was normally taken through to be locked up for the night Tor forced her, his grip nigh on bruising. This brought her slight comfort and terror at the same time, though mostly terror. What if Vanille was about to find out what caused all the snarling and clawing in the darkness of the dungeon? But Tor pushed her passed the heavy wood and steel door, tension surging anew right up her spine. So what then? What was the bondsman thinking? Miriam didn't have to tell him, which would suggest that whatever was coming, he'd done it times before.

Through a different door in the same corridor the two of them went, and down a short flight of earthen stairs into an open chamber with a small collection of lamps to illuminate it. No marble, no stone, just compacted dirt all around. It looked to be situated below the foundation of the villa. The air was cold, stagnant and dry.

Along the floor and walls and arranged in rows were wooden panels, all of them with metal handles so they could be opened. This where the villa's supply of wine was kept, in dozens of clay jars kept in the cool embrace of the soil.

Tor knew at least one of them would be empty, knew Miriam liked to drink enough to ensure that. He tapped his boot against the panels in the floor, listening carefully until he found an empty one. Once he had, hearing a resound thud of his boot unhindered, he pulled on the handle and opened the latch. Needless to say Vanille didn't like the look of where this was going.

Tor's hand left her upper arm, leaving bright reddened welts that matched the shape of all five fingers. Quickly he hooked his middle finger through the loop in the steel manacle around her neck and pulled, lifting her off the ground several inches. Out of pure reflex Vanille gripped his arm, clawing and kicking at him in response to the tightness in her throat. She was already scared shitless, and now she couldn't breathe; the panic was immense with the base desire to simply survive. Metal cutting into her neck only made it worse.

Only willing to put up with the human's nonsense for a short moment, Tor twisted around and then let go, dropping the slave like a sack of rubbish into the small opening. Without delay he kicked the hatch closed and sat on top of it.

The gravity behind her fall served to wedge Vanille tight into the space meant for a wine vessel, and certainly not a human body. Hardened earth scraped against her arms and legs, cutting deep enough to draw droplets of blood, to leave angry welts in patterns like claws. She was crushed into a fetal position, knees pressed against her chest suffocatingly tight, one arm trapped above her head while the other was stuck at her side. There was barely the room to breathe, much less move. From the spark of pain she felt upon impact, Vanille was convinced something had broken; perhaps a toe forced in the wrong direction by the ill-fitting shape of the cavity.

Then there was the darkness. The all consuming black that shrouded her when Tor closed the panel. It threatened to steal the very life out of her. No room to move, no light, the fear of breath ceasing, it culminated into a lethal cocktail of phobia and raw reaction. Vanille began shaking, whimpering as her heart rate climbed when her body refused her commands to move. Whimpering turned to sobbing, tears rolling down her sweat dappled face. With the sobbing came hyperventilation, her mind screaming "_Breathe! Breathe!_", as if the air in the cramped space would suddenly disappear, leaving her to slowly expire.

Her teeth knocked together she was shaking so hard. Her whole body spasmed in savage, drawn out surges of desperate resistance, to the point where it was painful and shards of earth were digging deeper into her tender skin. She could feel large droplets of sweat rolling down her face. It was so hot, but it was only in her head. Fear had her so tightly in its grasp that she was convinced it was sweltering in the tiny hole. And it only kept building until, after perhaps a minute of being put in there, Vanille forced out a scream. It ripped its way out of her from her very core and rang with despair and a sort of self imposed agony.

How self imposed?

Well, the only thing anyone should ever fear is fear itself.

Fear is a mind killer, and it was well on its way to committing first degree murder.

Vanille screamed for what seemed like hours, the terror caused by her situation only mounting. And when her voice refused to create more than raspy whimper, all she could manage was to continue shaking. Her body rattled, sore and aching from the prolonged hyper tension, and she bit down hard on her knuckle. She didn't feel the pain of her teeth breaking skin, didn't taste the hint of copper in her mouth. All that her mind could focus on was the numbing fear.

The fear and the darkness.

Author's Note: I think I'm suffering from Oral Rectitis, or maybe it's just me. Some of this chapter just seemed like a total pile, I dunno. But, when I get right down to it, I'm not in control. I write what comes to me, all I have control over is how everything is put together. Such as Vanille's apparent claustrophobia. Otherwise, I'm just along for the ride. Anyway, I know this was a lot of filler, but I'll be getting back to the plot soon. At least I hope so.


	11. Chapter X

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Ten**

Miriam came down into the wine cellar the following morning. As the door opened and her steps echoed through the stairwell, Tor opened his eyes. The pearly slits were wide for a moment, long enough for his mistress to come into the light, and then they thinned. With a slight swish of her hand he stood up, and she stepped up to him, patting his bare chest in the usual way.

"Good man." and his reaction to her praise made it clear that she was the only person that could ever make the bondsman smile. Albeit briefly.

Miriam pondered the wooden panel in the floor, a smirk tugging on the corner of her mouth, the tip of one fang threatening to peak out. She held one hand out, palm up as her elbow hung at her side. In the other hand she held a fine leather riding crop, a favored accessory she only carried around when in a certain mood. Tor was more familiar with it than anyone else, actually. But I believe you see my point. She slapped her open palm with it, quietly, contemplating.

_Pap_. _Pap_. _Pap_.

Then she shrugged with the tone of someone who had drawn the short straw. "Open it up."

And he obeyed without pause, ripping open the hatch and reaching down to collect its contents.

The air was colder than she remembered, and the dim light of the lamps was painful as her eyelids parted. The sensation of weightlessness was momentary, followed by an abrupt fall and an even more abrupt impact. Vanille hit the ground on her knees and elbows, then rolled onto her side when her body couldn't relax. Her joints were stiff after several hours of being crammed in that hole, and she ached all over.

Miriam found her slave's condition laughable, as human frailty became generally humorous since she was turned. There was no color in the human's face, in her trembling lips. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she shook like a frightened rat. In fact, now that she thought about, the poor thing kind of looked like one. Again, laughable.

"Stand it up, if you would." if you didn't know any better, by her tone you would think she was trying to kiss her bondsman's ass. Which, just between you and me, she has done before. And I mean that literally.

Vanille had to force her legs to unbend as Tor gripped her arms, hoisting her off the ground. The pain was sharp, her knees popping as she put weight on them. Then she pushed her back to straighten, followed by her arms. But there was no relaxing her tightened fists, they were stuck that way for the time being. Besides, perhaps it was best that Miriam didn't see the near bone-deep bite mark on her knuckle. She might want to suck it dry.

Miriam stood resolutely in front of her, one hand resting behind her back, the other at her side. She brought the tip of the riding crop to Vanille's chin, pushing until she could see the slave's eyes. Vanille cringed through the pain in her neck.

"Open your eyes...there." her full grin emerged. "Now, I believe you understand your mistake, don't you? And you won't be doing it again, yes?"

Vanille forced herself to nod, a slight jerk of her head up and down against rigid leather.

"Good. You see I'm not a _bad_ person, don't you? I mean, I brought you into my home after all. Just imagine what anyone else would have done with you."

That idea made her stomach twist.

"So how else do you expect me to react when something I value turns up missing? I wouldn't have treated Tor any differently...then again, Tor isn't so stupid." the noble chuckled. "Still...even you mortals are prone to your missteps, so I forgive you."

Somehow Vanille failed to find any comfort in that.

"Which brings me to the other problem." the noble's tone shifted from superficially gentle to flat as a board.

Oh Christ.

"As a vampire I have no need to sleep every day, but when I do, I like to bed at a decent hour. Typically around nine or ten. Do you know what time I was able to fall asleep last night?"

She had no answer.

"Two in the morning. Do the math," her tone firmed, her jaw tightened. "How many hours did I have to lay awake listening to your caterwauling? I'll go ahead and tell you. _Six_. _Six hours_, you little scutt."

Miriam made a hand gesture that Vanille didn't see. The next thing she knew she had been spun around, now held fast facing the bondsman. The sudden motion somewhat broke through the numb haze she had fallen into. And if that didn't, what came next certainly would.

_THWACK_!

Vanille felt her whole body seize as the riding crop struck her back, ripping right through cloth and into skin. She bit her lip against a scream, unsure if anything would come out if she let it.

_THWACK_!

That one seemed harder, to cut deeper. Tears were forming hot and rolling down her cheeks. She would've fallen to her knees if Tor wasn't holding her.

_THWACK_!

And then three more times after that. By then every nerve ending tingled, cried as her skin burned. Welts criss-crossed her shoulder blades, some of them open and bleeding.

"Ah," Miriam exhaled, sounding pleased. "I feel better. Tor,"

The bondsman lifted his head, the slits of his eyes flexing.

"When do you usually bed?"

"Midnight." by the gods, he spoke!

"And when did you actually fall asleep?"

"Four this morning."

"So that makes...four more for an even ten."

And four more she received. Vanille felt partially fortunate that Tor wasn't the one giving them. By the end of them she was openly crying, tears steadily falling from her chin to the floor. Once again she was turned around, now facing her owner.

"I certainly hope, for your own sake, that you've learned your lesson. Mortals are at their best when they are silent. Regardless of whether you do or don't, let me make one thing clear," Miriam bent forward at her tiny waist to be level with her slave. "This. _Will not_. Happen. Again."

Vanille didn't move, couldn't move. All she could do was shake from lingering pain and growing fatigue.

"You can let it go, Tor. I believe I've gotten my point across."

And he did as she suggested, surprised when the human didn't fall under the burden of her own weight. She managed to lift her head enough to see Miriam turn her back, making her way towards the stairwell.

The noble suddenly stopped.

"Oh, but there's just one last thing I almost forgot,"

Vampires moved very quickly, even those who weren't born that way, and Miriam was no exception to the fact. She was but a blur as she spun around, one fist clenching just as it connected with her slave's face.

Vanille felt the blow all the way into her stomach as her head snapped back and she fell against Tor, which was more akin to hitting a brick wall. She slumped to her knees, her hands covering her face as blood gushed out of her nose, the taste of copper strong and warm in her mouth and going down her throat. She felt like throwing up.

"_That_...was for making me go hungry last night." was the last the noble would say, and left the cellar for good. She was glad to see the girl bleed.

If _she_ couldn't have her blood, no one could.

Tor watched almost curiously as the battered human attempted to stand up, failing to do so miserably as she stumbled each time she tried. When the novelty of that died he reached down and grabbed her by the arm, literally dragging her up the stairs and out of the cellar. It was clear to him that she couldn't work; she would bleed all over anything he set her to clean. So he put her away, tethering her to the usual place in the dungeon and leaving her be until Miriam told him otherwise.

Vanille could feel the earth moving beneath her, back and forth, unsteady in her dazed state. She blinked in and out of consciousness, doing everything she could to stay off her livid back. She couldn't remember ever being hit so hard in her life, and she began to wonder, had it been worth it? Was all of this worth releasing that damn bird?

What if it didn't even make it out of the city, or just dropped dead in mid-flight? What then?

She would have plenty of time to fret over that later. As for the present, she couldn't resist the need to sleep, and gave into it.

_(–)_

"Let me see, let me see," Helm demanded hurriedly.

Dash fished in his pockets, pulling out a slip of paper. He'd just returned from the vault, or the bank if you prefer, after checking the current balance of their joint account. They had been busting their rumps for that last month selling off the crystal, and Helm was very eager to see the progress they had made.

"Here you are," Dash presented him with the accountant's note, which his charge snatched right away.

"Fifty thousand talons?" Helm gaped.

"Indeed." Dash sounded very proud. "Sold the last of it yesterday and made the deposit as soon as they opened this morning."

"That's it?"

"What do you mean 'that's it'? That's a damn fine sum, Helm. We could buy a nice home with half of it."

"And commit the rest to property taxes!" to Helm, none of this sounded like even the slightest step forward towards his goal of financial security.

"For the next twelve years!"

"Then what in the blue hell do you expect me to buy my harem with?" Helm's brow was set high, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging in such a manner that it portrayed his disappointment.

"We'll just have to keep working until we get enough."

"I don't want to keep working!"

"Oh grow up, would you? All things come to those who wait."

"But that doesn't say anything about working." Helm countered, thinking he had just exploited an ingenious loop hole. "Besides, I spent eighty-something years breaking my back to get what I want, and I _still_ didn't get it! So you'll have to forgive me for being a little impatient."

"I know, Helm, I do, and no one said it would be easy," Dash tried to calm him down, not liking how Helm's tone had suddenly become so bitter. "Let's look at it this way; if we hang on to a majority of this money, we're halfway there. The prospect will open again in about three months, and we can go back to work. Until then, if it'll help you feel better,"

Helm looked curious.

"I'll give you a thousand talons to do whatever you want."

His face lit up. "Anything?" He had never seen that amount, much less held it in his hands.

"Absolutely anything."

"So...say I wanted to take the gold and rub it all over my naked body..."

"Just wait until I'm not around." Dash cringed a little, but consented all the same.

"What if I wanted to start a new sport where women wrestle in a vat of various fruit jellies and in their underwear?"

"If you must." He shrugged, thinking a moment later that the venture might actually prove to be somewhat lucrative.

"Can I give cheese to a lactose intolerant volcano god?" Helm smiled deviously, one fang hooking his bottom lip.

"...If you can find one." Dash shook his head. "Still, you see my point?"

"I think I could stand to take you up on that offer. Why not you and I go out, have a drink or two, a nice dinner?" as if all those previous ideas had been to tease his sire, and now he was being serious.

"Nah, I don't really feel like it. I think I'll lay down for a while." and then he yawned, suddenly feeling as tired as he thought he was. "I'll write the check for you first."

"No, no, it can wait. It's not going anywhere, right?" it was like Helm had spontaneously changed from his usual self to someone else, sounding considerate and giving. "I'll just go for a walk, I think. I'll see you later tonight. You won't mind if I bring a girl home, will you?"

"You'd embarrass yourself, Helm." He said with arms open, reminding his friend of the dump they lived in.

"Then I'll buy you a wife so _you_ can be the one embarrassed." Helm laughed as he stepped out the door.

_(–)_

Vanille hadn't been allowed out of the villa for the last few days, or near the aviary for that matter. Aside from those seemingly minor restrictions, and the fact Tor tended to shadow her every step like an anxious vulture, little else had changed. Some of her duties had been put aside and replaced with others. Miriam tended to keep her closer at hand, most likely just to keep an eye on her, and sent her about to do minor things. Fetch this, take that here, clean up Lucifer's droppings, became the most common orders. Now and then Vanille would take a fleeting glance out the stained glass window, down into the garden. She wondered if he was still there, if he really meant to wait for her.

There was no telling when she would see him again.

It was mid evening and Miriam had only just returned after leaving around the same time yesterday. She looked drawn, her eyes seeming heavy and a little red. The noble teetered on her feet a little, as if high-heels had suddenly become a hindrance. It would seem that the lady of the house had one too many the night before. Tor had helped her up the stairs and eventually to her seat behind her desk. There she moaned and groaned at an apparent headache, hiding her eyes from the sunlight coming from the windows. To think a hangover could fell the mighty queen bitch of Arash.

"You there," Miriam commanded with the firmest tone she could muster.

Vanille took a cautious step forward from where she stood nearby.

"Get me some tea."

And off she went, not wanting to even consider tempting the noble's mood right now, and took care to close the door behind her quietly. It didn't take long for her to return, but even a few seconds would've been too long for Miriam to wait.

"Took you long enough." the vampire grumbled as Vanille set down the silver tray and then waved her hand for the girl to back away. With an unsteady hand she poured the tea herself, half missing the waiting cup. After it was full, the teapot, for lack of a better word, flopped back onto the tray, the harsh _clang_ making her flinch and cringe.

Lucifer and Scylla climbed up onto the desk, warbling as they nuzzled their surrogate mother's arm. "Come here, my babies," she cooed, gathering both of them against her chest that they may crawl onto her shoulders. When the lizards settled she reached for the teacup, picking it up, but then setting it back down as Scylla started down the same arm. The female wasn't quite accustomed to perching on Miriam yet, so it would only stay on her for a few moments before wanting to get down. Still, it stayed close to Miriam, curling into a ball on top of a small stack of papers that sat in front of the noble.

Miriam reached for the teacup once again, curling one finger into the handle and lifting it towards her mouth. She paused, noticing Lucifer's curiosity towards the object, and then lowered it that he might have a closer look. The black slits of his eyes flexed as he put his nose to the steamy brew, his tongue flicking to catch its aroma. Then he backed away with a tiny snort, uninterested. His mistress smiled, appearing to be amused, and finally decided that she could take a sip.

Before I proceed, let me address something about the noble that some may not have noticed. Miriam has an anger problem, had one since long before she was turned. Often very irrational, she had a tendency to take it out on the nearest person she saw, regardless of where the blame was meant to go, regardless of whether or not there was any blame at all. And it could happen faster than you could blink. One might consider the vamp bipolar. With that being said, I'll continue.

The tea was too hot.

It touched her lips and went passed them into her mouth and the pain was like a white hot spike straight into her already throbbing brain. Her reaction was immediate. Swearing and hissing she jumped out her chair, knocking it on its back and tossing the teacup across the floor. Her lizards ran for cover and Vanille shied away, a big step towards the window. Miriam then grabbed the pot about its belly and slammed it onto the floor, its contents splattering in every direction.

If the sudden movement, the sudden spike in blood pressure, and the loud clattering of glassware hadn't worsened the already nauseating intensity of Miriam's migraine, the high-pitched squeal of her slave did. Vanille didn't want to scream, knew she shouldn't, but it hurt so much, a scalding pain up and down her legs from a shower of hot liquid.

Miriam turned on the girl like a viper with a swift, jerking twist of her body. Vanille saw the same look she saw the night the noble first struck her, wide eyes and gleaming fangs. But now her hands were reaching, claws curled and already gripping something that wasn't there. Vanille had nowhere to go. If she ran, she would only die tired.

"_SHUT UP_, _SHUT UP_, _SHUT UP_!" the noble shrieked. She only had the mind to shove, so angry there was no thought, no awareness of anything but an invisible shade of red. She pushed, and pushed, her grip just tight enough on the slave's shoulders for her claws to hook into flesh.

Vanille felt herself falling, swearing there had been something solid against her back but a moment ago. Then a loud _CRASH_ registered alongside the shimmer of stained glass shards all around her. Yes, that solid object had given way to her own weight and the great force Miriam was pressing against her. She went right through the peacock's tail, glass that had not given way slicing her legs and arms as she fell, roughly, twenty feet down with breath held tight and arms reaching as the peacock became smaller and smaller. She hit marble tiles, just shy of the solid stone lip of the fountain, and bounced.

Miriam stood in the new hole in the window, glaring down at the body, her chest heaving. After several long seconds she twisted around again, walking back inside.

"Tor," she barked, "bring me more tea!"

The tingling in her fingers and toes woke her up, brought her out of a dreamless sleep that she was convinced was meant to be permanent. Vanille opened her eyes to see stars, a blue velvet sky, and to feel the caress of a cool breeze on her face. For a briefly lucid moment she wondered how long she had been lying here. Then the pain set in, all over she ached and it centralized in the back of her head. Sluggishly she managed to pull her hand across the tiles to touch her hair, feeling the cold stick of congealing blood. She didn't dare press much further, knowing the wound there would be tender if not a complete split right to the bone.

Vanille didn't remember falling, didn't remember what led up to it. It was just gone, like the memory had disappeared or didn't exist at all. The last thing she remembered was the smell of tea, nothing else. She rolled onto her side with a quiet groan, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

"You're alive,"

Through the natural rasp of his voice she could make out the surprised relief. She searched for him the dark, feeling his hands on her to help her sit up.

"I would've come sooner, but I didn't want her to see me." he sounded guilty over the fact. "Can you walk?"

Walking? What the hell was walking? "I could try." somehow she formed the words in the right order.

"Come on," and he took her by the hand, leading her into the garden.

The two made their way to the barrier wall, stepping over sleeping cat bodies as they went. He was chomping at the bit, fearful the Vanille would stumble onto one them. He knew she'd hit her head pretty hard, but he had spied drunkards with better balance than that.

It hurt to move, hurt to breathe, and the ache was deep down in the bones. Vanille didn't know how she was able to keep up with him, hard pressed to ignore the need to just lie down until the throbbing pain went away. Still she followed, forcing herself to stay upright.

One of the tallest trees in the garden rested close to the wall, a pair of felines sleeping in the highest boughs. He helped Vanille onto his shoulders, knowing she couldn't jump high enough to reach one of the lower limbs. Once she was steady and had begun to climb, he was right behind her, and then it was Vanille that fell behind.

"Come on, just a little further," and he extended his hand for her to take.

Now they could see the top of the wall as the two crouched on a large limb. If it were any longer they could just walk, albeit carefully, to reach it. But no such luck. They would have to take a running start and jump halfway. He looked back at Vanille, saw her fatigue, and was unsure if she could do it.

"We're almost there." he encouraged. "Not much further now, I promise."

"I know," she panted, the pressure in her head so tight it felt on the verge of combustion.

He needed to think fast. "Okay. I'll go first, and I'll be there to catch you."

She nodded again. Still unsure if this would work, he turned towards the wall, steadying himself on another branch as he stood up. The leaves rustled hard as he took three long strides and then jumped, just making it, scraping his knees on the edge of the stone structure. He pulled himself up, seeming not to be phased at all, turning on his feet back towards the tree. He held out his hands, showing he was ready.

_Now's your chance_, she said to herself. _It may be the only chance you get_.

Vanille demanded her base be steady as she stood, her knees threatening to give as she put her full weight on them. Then she took a deep breath, held it, and went for it. She felt herself going through the air, her feet no longer on solid ground, and saw nothing as she shut her eyes. She didn't have the courage to open them again until she made it to the other side, the young slave's arms secure around her.

"You're all right, you made it," he assured her as he lifted her up.

Vanille was now on her hands and knees atop the wall, looking down the other side, down into the empty streets. Lanterns lined the outer walls of buildings, and large oil basins were alight on almost every corner. Being able to see where they were going, even at this hour, wouldn't be so difficult. Then again, it wouldn't so difficult for anyone to see _them_ either. There would be no stopping once they had started, not until they had gotten out of the city. True, part of the wall was part of the barrier for the entire city, thus having a direct link to the outside, but it was in plain sight also.

However, the truth was, either route they chose, was doomed to failure. They had no idea, even as they made their way back down, that they were being watched.

Bondsmen kept the streets of Arash during the day, but once the sun set, they disappeared. And for good reason.

They were called Nighthawks, and they were the finest hunters Gran Pulse had ever seen. They were the very core of the vampire species, the beginning. They had gone unchanged for more than a millennia, not failing to, but refusing to shy away from their seemingly primitive instincts to suit the growth of the coming generations. They were hunters, and remained so. Legends said that the saints had been Nighthawks, and out of their bloodlines came all other vampires.

There were few broods left now, keeping to the old ways and keeping them secret. Those born without the proper traits were trained to be bondsman, or removed from the brood altogether, typically brought to Arash as orphaned children. Otherwise they were raised in one profession; hunting. And they did so with lethal potency.

Once the sun goes down the Nighthawks wake, taking to the rooftops and shadows to watch for potential prey. Gray skinned, dark haired with crimson red eyes and the smallest black slits, and red tattoos covering most of their faces were the only ways to tell what you were looking at. No other vampire resembled them enough to confuse even the ignorant. If you were close enough to realize what you were looking at, you had perhaps the time it took to take a breath before you were dead. If you could make out their faces, all the different colors, you were their target. That is, if you ever saw them at all.

They would come in from the wastes to the north, where they were said to live. In and out of the city like ghosts, often unseen by anyone. But everyone in the city knew they were there. You could feel them, perhaps see the flicker of a shadow, but that was all, and that was enough for most. Many citizens would leave offerings of small animals out for them, thinking it would keep them from perching on their roof.

And as they had been for hundreds of years, the Nighthawks were watching tonight. Though they did not see the two slaves as they fell to the street, they could smell them. The sweat, the blood, their breath, was like a blaring alarm and was crystal clear, never mind that the closest of them was halfway across the district.

Slaves had a curfew, the Nighthawks knew. It was the law, and the law had to be enforced. It was the only thing they answered to other than their predatory nature.

They ran, it was the only thought as they turned a darkened corner through a back alley. He hand her by the wrist, not even thinking about letting go. He knew she wouldn't make it without him. But, he had confidence in knowing the hardest part was over, they were off the noble's property and that was more than he had hoped for. Now his eyes were sweeping back and forth in a panic, looking for the next certain something that would spark an idea. They needed to get out of the city as soon as possible.

Every step she took forced pain to radiate up her legs and through the rest of her body. She wanted to stop, just to rest a moment, but knew there wasn't time. She kept telling herself just to suck it up and keep going.

_Once this is over, you can go home._

The two splashed through a puddle in the middle of the street, turning another corner and running abreast the length of the wall, unaware of the shadows moving behind them. Jumping from roof to roof, seeming to move through the darkness, they drew closer to the slaves, black slits flexing. One watched as he crept atop the wall with all the grace of a cat. More were coming out of nowhere, attracted by the movement of their brothers, and the smell. The lot of them, maybe six, began to close formation, moving as one, forming a shrinking circle.

The first Nighthawk seemed to come from thin air, appearing in the blink of an eye in front of them. Both wayward slaves stumbled to a halt. Vanille couldn't hold back a frightened scream as she jerked herself to the side and ran in another direction. At full tilt she sprinted down the darkened side street, ignoring her pain due to the fear. Her heart was thumping in time with her footsteps. She didn't know if she was being followed, was far too scared to look. The sight of that..._thing_ and his blood red eyes were burned on her mind.

Vanille wouldn't stop running, taking random streets and corners, not knowing where she was headed, even though her lungs burned and her joints ached. Another Nighthawk appeared out of nothing, blocking her path and forcing her to turn back. So it was down another alley, and again she was blocked. Eventually she found her way back to the wall, still running for her life as a Nighthawk ran, completely horizontal on the wall behind her. She could feel them getting closer. Any second now they would pounce and she'd be dead.

Then she spotted something in the darkness just ahead, that gave her just a little more strength. The storm drains in the barrier wall were not grated, and were just big enough for someone to crawl through. Just a few more steps, not too much further...

Almost there...

A Nighthawk materialized out of a darkened space only a few steps ahead of the human. He stepped into her path, one arm extended and taught at the shoulder, locked at the elbow. Her mind didn't register his presence fast enough to stop her relentless stride. Vanille collided with the vampire's arm, his wrist crushing her throat as her momentum carried her still forward. She didn't feel how restricted her breathing was from the impact. She hit the cobblestone street and went still, another blow to the head robbing her of awareness. It was like flipping off a light switch.

Out of the half dozen that participated in the chase, only three Nighthawks appeared. One of them had the other slave on his shoulder. Another knelt down to take a closer look at the girl on the ground, checking her body for something, maybe a marking of some kind. When he found none he picked her up, and the lot of them vanished.

Tor answered the door looking like he'd just woken up. He was surprised to see his Nighthawk cousins, and that surprise turned to frustration when he realized why they darkened his mistress's door. They handed the slaves off, Tor taking one under each arm with a customary, though insincere nod of thanks. When he was back inside he shrugged quietly, knowing that Miriam would not be happy to hear this. But it could wait until dawn, no use waking her now. That was asking for trouble, but not as much as the slaves had coming to them.

There was light in the dungeon for the first time in many years. A family of iron basins filled with oil were situated around the large chamber, glowing with the lapping tongues of tall flames. The light bathed the room in crimson, making it an eerie resemblance to Hell itself. It was nigh on sweltering, no windows or passages to allow air in or out.

Once again Vanille woke to pain and tingling, starting in her shoulders and creeping upward to her hands as they were pulled over her head. Her eyes blinked open, and it took only moment for the full gravity of her situation to settle in, never mind that all she could see at the moment was the wall. She thought to pull her arms down, a mild panic having started in her, but her limbs refused to obey. Cold steel was wrapped about her wrists and anchored in the ceiling. She looked up to see it, and then looked down to find herself stark naked.

This was _not_ a good sign.

A large, tight hand snatched the longer end of her hair, forcing her head forward and pressing on that still tender wound at the back of her head. But that pain was dim compared to what came next. Her scream of agony drowned out the hiss of burning flesh as Tor pressed a near white hot iron against her skin. When he pulled away it left a bright red and blackened rectangle just beneath her hairline, just deep enough that it would not fade for many years, if ever.

Tears rolled down her face alongside the sweat, and she sobbed as the burning refused to fade.

"Oh, so it is awake? Good." Miriam's voice echoed through the chamber, as did her footsteps until Vanille could see her. The noble shook her head, clearly disappointed. "And here we are again. I was _really_ hoping you would've learned your lesson the first time."

She kept her head down. As if that would help her case.

"You are an honest fool, aren't you? When the gods were handing out brains, I suppose you showed up late, hm? Some of you just can't help it, can you?"

Vanille half wished the browbeating was as painful as the brand, maybe then she could forget one over the other.

Miriam curled her fingers tightly around Vanille's chin, pulling upward and keeping hold even as she forced her slave to look at her.

"I was being lenient before, you know? I showed you mercy, never mind how little of it you actually deserved; however, it will be like _nothing_ compared to what is going to happen now." her voice went from condescending to serpentine, a hiss between her fangs. "I'm going to allow Tor to discipline you since you were rude enough to wake him once again. _But_,"

Vanille felt herself flinch as the noble squeezed tighter.

"Before I let him have his fun, I think you should know what will happen should you disobey me. _One_. _More_. _Time_."

Miriam grabbed her by the arms and turned her around to face into the chamber, where she found it to be much larger than she thought. It was her first opportunity to see it for what it really was. It was a rounded room, all stone and steel. Along the far wall were iron gates, and out of the bars came hands. Bony, clawed, gripping hands. Dozens of them. Their scraping against the stone was coupled with screeching and snarling.

At the center of the chamber was the young man she had met in the garden, motionless, not even appearing to breathe. She was sure he was dead. And he was, a Nighthawk having snapped his neck with one fluid twist. The vampire had checked his marks, just like Vanille now carried, but he had three.

Three strikes and you're out. It was the law.

"Now watch..._very_ carefully."

Tor held a torch in one hand as he stepped towards one of the iron gates, waving it so whatever was behind it would back away. Then he bent down, lifting the latch and pulling it open, the hinges whining. What came out of it terrified her.

The creatures appeared frighteningly human, the only resemblance being the arms and legs attached to a torso. They looked to be little more than skin too tightly stretched across a bone frame, crawling at a frantic scramble towards the body. Their mouths gaped open with tongues wagging, slaver on their lips, and fangs aplenty. Two of which jutted upward from the bottom jaw like needle sharp tusks. There was no face, only sunken, empty sockets for eyes, no ears, and two small slits for nostrils. They had no hair, no determinable gender.

The lot of them fell onto the corpse and began to tear madly away at it. Piece by piece they devoured the remains in a bloodied frenzy of gnashing teeth and ripping claws.

And Miriam made sure she watched it all.

"I think the Pulsian word for them is _payara_, but we call them nulls. Fascinating creatures, aren't they?"

Vanille felt sick, felt terrified as well. But mostly sick.

"But, you see, _he_ is the fortunate one." Miriam pointed to what was left. "You will not be. He was dead when they began to eat him, and I won't do that for you. If something like this happens again, I won't even bother to serve you alive." the noble's tone dropped to whisper as she leaned close to the slave's ear. "You see...I will make you one of them."

Vanille felt her eyes widen, fresh tears falling.

"I will suck the very last drop of life from you, and then...after a time...you will be _just_. _Like_. _Them_. No face. No will. No soul. And you will remain so for all eternity."

Vanille couldn't look away, couldn't force herself to even shut her eyes as the nulls finished their meal and were driven back into their cell by a few sweeps of Tor's torch. There weren't even bones left, only a small puddle of blood and the manacle that had been around his neck. All she could do was cry. All the hope she had was gone now, and there was no getting it back.

"I think you've got the idea now, yes? Wonderful." Miriam finally let go, turning to leave. "Enjoy yourself, Tor. But don't kill it."

"Why are you doing this?" Vanille cried, no longer able to be silent. At this rate she didn't much care if she lived much longer.

Miriam stopped, half turning around with thinned eyes. "Why? What a silly question. Why not? I am a vampire...and you're only human. What more explanation do you want?"

"Why don't you j-just kill me then?" she was trying to hold back a heavy sob that was in her throat.

"Well, unfortunately I do have a need for you. I have to eat, you know. And...now that I think about it...I like watching you squirm." and that was the last she would say about it, though there was plenty more to say.

Miriam left the dungeon, heading back to her study, dwelling on that question.

Why?

It was one she often posed to herself, although not recently. Why did she like to harm her slaves so much? Perhaps it was in their screams. Every time she heard it she seemed to hear herself, the mere mortal she had once been. And when they cowared in terror at the very sight of her, she saw herself groveling there, a little girl crying "Don't hit me, daddy, I love you". Killing a slave, watching them die, allowed her to glory in killing her mortal self again and again. It was disgusting. She loved and hated it at the same time. And she felt the same way about herself.

Back in the dungeon, Tor was gathering up his favorite toys. He kept all of them in a wooden chest that he normally hid beneath his bed, only bringing them out at Miriam's request. With that being said, naturally he was somewhat excited when the mistress had asked him to bring them along when she came down to address her slave's misbehavior.

His possessions were typical for a bondsman. Knives in particular. Most of them were tools of the trade, not really what he would consider his playthings. The things he loved most came in leather, no steel allowed. With one exception.

If he was going to play, he was going to need a light snack. By law, he wasn't allowed to bite her since he didn't own her, so he would have to get it some other way. The only reason he used metal in play. It was a small pen knife that he collected from the chest, feeling no need to use anything larger. Without any real hurry or body language to telegraph his intent, he stepped over to the helpless girl, knife pinched between his thumb and finger.

Tor cut her on the top of one thigh, kneeling down so he might begin feeding just as the blood began to flow from the two inch slice. He could feel her trying to pull away, but certainly not with enough force to succeed. He held her still until he was satisfied, which didn't take much. He only needed a pick-me-up after all. He stood and went back to his chest once more. Now came the hard part for him, something he struggled with every time.

Where to begin?

Once he had decided, he began straight away.

It was the longest two hours of her life, Vanille would remember. Two hours of her only thought being "when am I going to die?". Tor did not do it quickly, he didn't enjoy quickies at all. What anyone else would've have spent a few minutes doing, he spent hours. By the time he was done he had used almost all of his toys, a little abuse with each. When he was done Vanille was covered in bruises, and bloody lashes across her back, buttocks, and legs. And he left her there, still hanging from the ceiling. Still alive, but most likely grieving the fact.

Author's Note: This marks another transition. I'm not entirely sure what's coming next, but one thing I am sure about is that I want to kind of expand on the Pulsian language I've developed. Yeah, it'll probably suck, but it's a dimension I really want to explore. Next chapter? Well...we'll see. I think we'll check up on Light and friends for a spell.

Also, be sure to check out some art for this fic at http:/ luckyfirerabbit. deviantart .com

And feel free to contribute your own, and let me see it!


	12. Chapter XI

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Eleven**

Fang watched with curiosity as the cast was cut off, marveling at how the reciprocating saw cut the plaster but not her skin as it went from one end to the other. After so long of wearing the damn thing, the itching without being able to scratch and bashing it on the bed frame in the middle of the night loud enough to wake herself up, it was absolutely liberating to get it off. The doctor pulled the two halves away and tossed them in a waste bin. Fang eyed the large, bruise-darkened scab left from the exposed bone, feeling a little tenderness in it as she flexed her foot and toes. Then she tried standing up.

No pain right away. Some weakness, but no pain. She put all her weight on it, lifting her other leg up slightly as if to test her balance. When it appeared that everything was in it's proper place, Fang put up her hands in quiet triumph.

"Here, I brought you some clothes." Lightning had stepped in a moment ago, but stayed back until the doctor had finished.

Fang took the folded garments. "Where's my stuff?"

"I've got it at my place. It's too cold to go running around dressed like that anyway." Light crossed her arms, smirking.

"I suppose you've got a point." she nodded, starting to dress. "Either way, I'm tired of sitting around in my skivvies all day."

"Join the club." Light laughed.

"Aw, come on; I know you're starting to sag in all the wrong places, but that's no reason to be cross."

Light bit her tongue. Jokes at her expense seemed to have become Fang's new hobby, jokes about her age in particular. And the worst thing about it was that everyone seemed to love it. Still, she knew it was all in good fun. At least she hoped.

"Well excuse the hell out of me for not being the one in crystal stasis." was her retort, an attempt to keep up with the game.

"You're excused." Fang, as usual, managed in the last word. She couldn't help but laugh a little when she heard Lightning's frustrated shrug. Maybe now was a good time for a subject change. "What's the weather like today?"

"Cold. Most of the snow in the valley has melted, though. You plan on going somewhere?" Lightning sounded almost suspicious.

"I do, indeed." Fang nodded. "I've been cooped up in here long enough, and I intend to take myself outside. And I've been thinking,"

"Hm?"

"Where did you say that fellow lived? The guy who brought me here."

"Oh, him." Light shook her head at the thought of him. "Aggra's Pasture. What about it?"

"Just thought I'd stop by and say thanks, you know."

"You'll be lucky if he even answers the door." Light said flatly.

"That so? Well, the least I could do is give it a shot." she sounded determined enough. "Although I can understand why someone wouldn't be too keen to being social when a pink-haired psycho broad slaps them around."

"He was being a dick!" Light protested her case.

"And he probably thought the same of you." Fang countered, forcing her friend to consider something she hadn't before. "But that's beside the point."

Lightning had the distinct feeling that perhaps she found Fang more favorable when she was medicated. Otherwise she too easily out-negotiated Lightning at every turn.

"You never were one for social graces," Fang added.

"That's what everyone tells me." she shrugged. Everyone.

"Maybe they're on to something then, eh?" Fang pulled on the wool lined coat, zipping it partway. Now she was fully dressed, although it was strange how the look didn't seem to suit her. Perhaps, Lightning thought, she was simply too accustomed to seeing her in the usual native garb.

"I'll come with you." Lightning said as they both stepped out into the hall.

"I'm a big girl, you know." Fang slanted her eyes, letting her spear rest on one shoulder.

"A big girl who's been laid up for over a month," she nodded. "Just humor me."

"Nice to know you care."

Just as Light said, it was bitter cold outside, the wind biting in spite of the sunshine. They walked passed the chocobo stables, out of the colony altogether, Fang convinced she could use the exercise the walk would give her. It was only a couple of miles, maybe two or so. It was doable.

There wasn't a soul to be seen, no animals, not anything. Then again, it wasn't exactly the time of year for that. Sure, the Gui were still lumbering about, but that was because they were too large to migrate out of the valley. At least that was the general assumption. And, thankfully, the dogs weren't wandering about either.

"This is one of the nicest days we've had this winter." Lightning said in passing, thinking it was just too damn quiet.

"Does it get bad down here?" Fang asked as she nodded. "I can't remember ever going through a bad winter. Sure, it got cold, but it only snowed maybe a whole week out of the entire season."

A lot of things were different five hundred years ago, Light thought to herself.

"So this guy lives out here all by himself?"

"Yeah, him and his dog actually. And sheep."

"And you said he hardly ever comes out?"

"Especially since the pillar fell," Light nodded. "It's pretty obvious he knows something we don't, but he's not sharing."

Fang saw Lightning's brow tighten in a familiar way. That must've been why she and this man didn't get along. Light hated secrets, hated not knowing, especially if it involved people she cared about. The pillar's fall put her family in danger, which was more than enough reason for her to be pushy.

"I bet I could get him to talk."

Light arched one eyebrow, disbelieving. "Seriously? The man doesn't speak English."

"I didn't start out speaking it either." Fang looked a little smug. "I imagine you don't hear it much anymore, but Pulsians had their own language once upon a time."

"I know, I've heard some." Light thought back to the first time Shepherd spoke to her, angry and beyond irritated. "You never mentioned it before."

"There wasn't much need for it."

That was fairly true. The lot of them had been far too busy dealing with the Fal'Cie to consider trivial things like cultural matters. There was no need and, therefore, no time for it.

"It was easier that way." Fang continued. "So many different tribes from all over, all of them with different dialects, we needed a way to communicate that everyone could understand. Any idea where he's from?"

Light thought about it and thought about it, finding herself without a certain answer in the end.

"That's all right. I'm sure I can figure it out."

"You're so sure?" of course she had more faith in Fang than most anyone else, but there were some things even _she_ couldn't do.

"Yeah." she smiled. "You see, the difference between you and me is that I understand Pulsian men. You don't."

Light barely understood men at all, never mind where they were from. "You have an unfair advantage."

"And?"

"Just thought I'd point that out." and that made Fang laugh.

The two arrived at the pasture nearly an hour later, sheep everywhere as was the accepted norm. There was still some snow here, mostly behind the house against the earthen slope where the sun only shone for a short while every day. Icicles broke from the cusp of the roof, breaking when they hit the ground.

Gurthang began to bark before he could even see what he was barking at, the dog bounding around from behind the stable with jaws aflapping. He caught the scent of the visitors, his tongue now flailing about and his tail wagging as he wove between sheep to reach them. Light took a step back when he reared on his hind legs, front paws reaching for someone he could stand on.

"Loveable oaf, ain't he?" Fang seemed content to let Gurthang sniff and lick until he was satisfied, seeing as Light didn't appear to be as giving at the moment. "Can't believe he's so tame."

"I thought the same thing the first time I saw him. Thought he was going to attack me."

"You wouldn't do that, would you, you big softy? Even if she is a cranky old woman,"

Gurthang barked as if in agreement.

Great, now a dog was making fun of her.

"Now let's see if you can get along just as well with his master." Light crossed her arms, her tone making clear her intent to get this over with.

"Watch and be amazed." Fang accepted the challenge, helping the dog down onto all fours before advancing on the house.

It looked like no one was home, that is, until she got a little closer. She could spy the flickering light of a fire through a small space in the door. Someone was there, clearly ignoring whatever was making his dog bark, as if it were normal.

First she tried the typical thing, knocking. Once...twice...and nothing. Clearly that wasn't going to draw him out.

Fang cleared her throat. "_Tasa fen'tah_?" and then she waited.

It sounded like something fell over inside, maybe a chair. She could hear the rush of feet across the floor, the muffled swear of nearly tripping. Then the door opened just a little.

It took a moment for Shepherd to recognize her, and he found himself dwelling on the pink scar over her left eye. He had resigned himself to the idea that she had died, to be honest, so you can imagine his surprise. If she was indeed here, and he was fairly certain he wasn't seeing things, then perhaps he wasn't hearing things either. She was using his native tongue. It was enough to convince him to open the door the rest of the way.

Just like many others, Fang found Shepherd to be a brute of a man. And seemingly very rough around the edges, though not entirely unpleasant to look at. How he could stand to not wear a shirt in this weather was somewhat baffling. She smiled a little at the look of surprise drawn across his hard features.

"_Tai_." he answered, nodding briefly.

Fang extended her hand in a gesture of greeting, curious to see his reaction. She found familiarity in his response, grabbing her wrist in such a way that she could grip his. She put her other hand atop his very large one, per the old custom, and the two leaned in until their foreheads touched. When they separated, Shepherd looked like he'd seen a ghost. To think he would ever be greeted in such a way after so long.

"_Jah'tah, ae'asa nir_." and he stepped aside to allow her entry.

All the while Lightning stood there watching, and was now thoroughly bent. With her arms still crossed and mouth slightly ajar, she simply couldn't believe what she'd just seen. She could only think one thing.

Bullshit.

Lightning looked down at the feeling of something against the top of her boot, only to see a sheep on its back at her feet, its eyes wide and confused. And there was Gurthang, also looking up at her as if begging for approval. Apparently he had rolled the poor thing across the pasture, pushing it with his nose, offering it up as a gift. He must've thought she would let him lick her face if he showed his affection this way.

I brought you sheep. Love me.

When she didn't respond, he came to stand next to her and then sat down, still looking up. Waiting.

Inside, Shepherd acted the perfect gentleman, seemingly against his usual demeanor. He offered Fang the only chair at the table, food and drink, even his pipe was but a request away. He was willing to give her the shirt off his back, were he wearing one. As he busied himself about the room, Fang saw a large tattoo across his back, though in the poor light it was difficult to make out. It looked like a large bird, but she couldn't be sure. Finally he sat still, using a stump he often sat on when working as a chair, dragging it out of its corner to the table.

"Thank you for allowing me into your home." she thought she had garnered enough trust for them to speak frankly now. It was normal for different tribes to welcome one another in their own parlance, but that would change once they got into casual conversation.

"_Ae'asa_," he replied. "My pleasure." his English seemed thought out, like he remembered as he went. "I'm honored to have you as my guest, and it is good to see you well. So what can I do for you?" His accent was very much like her own.

"I mostly came to thank you. I owe you my life."

He shook his head, appearing humbled. "You are my sister by Mother Pulse, I couldn't do otherwise."

"But you did it at risk to yourself. I'm very grateful."

"You're welcome, and you do not owe me anything." he almost smiled. "It's not very often I hear someone speak the old tongue."

Fang had that feeling. "No, not at all. Where are you from?"

"Far from here." his expression darkened a little. "Very far."

"No doubt of that." she nodded. "Where?"

His brow creased tighter, like he was thinking. "Kushta."

Goodness, that was a long way. "What brought you so far south?"

"Bad luck." his laugh was false and full of mild bitterness.

"Why not go home?" he had the looks of someone who was sick for it, having been stuck here for too long.

"There's nothing for me to go back to." and his silvery eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders hunching as he rested his only elbow on one knee, as if he felt heavy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, you are curious. I understand." he shook his head, allowing her no guilt. "It is fine." though it clearly wasn't.

As bad as it made her feel to see him like this, Fang knew she was headed in the right direction. Keep with the good manners and the sympathy and he would, most likely, tell her anything she wanted to know.

"Why do you hide out here? I mean...you're all by yourself."

"I know. Solitude suits me." he replied, lifting his eyes. "It's safer inside."

"Safer? From what?"

Shepherd paused, his brow knotting again, much tighter this time. "_Tai'poe_."

It was a word that had multiple meanings, depending on who you asked. But there was a general translation of it that was almost universal.

"What, demons? The devil?" she went on what she knew.

"Close, though my people have another word." he took a slow breath. "Vampire."

"A what?"

"A devil in man's skin, feeding off mortals to survive." his expression changed from trouble to something knowing, almost amused. "You have the look of someone who has seen them."

"I think I may have." His description of them was close to proof positive, and it was startling. She felt a shiver go up her back.

"You have, I can tell." he half smirked. "Their fangs and eyes gleaming in the darkness...yes, you've seen them."

"How do you know so much?" Fang dared to ask. By his manner she could tell he preferred to guard that information. Maybe since they shared so much, he would be willing to let his guard down for her.

"I've dealt with them before. A long time ago." he sighed. "Could I ask a question now?"

The request came as a surprise, although she probably should have seen it coming. "Yeah, sure."

"Are you really from Oerba?" the darkness around his eyes faded, chased away by genuine curiosity.

"Yes, I am."

"How is that possible? That tribe vanished centuries ago. Unless I am mistaken..."

"No, you're not." she shook her head, thinking back.

"So how?"

"_Fal'yu_."

"I see." he knew that word. It was the old Pulsian word for l'Cie. "So it is just you now?"

"No. I have a sister."

"Is she here? I would like to meet her."

"No, she isn't." her response was quick. "She's gone missing."

"I am very sorry to hear that. What can I do?" he had to ask, offer what he could. It was the way he was raised.

Fang had to take a moment to consider her words. Chances were good that the pillar collapsing and the vampires were directly linked, regardless at the moment as to how. But these two things didn't appear to be Shepherd's two favorite topics of discussion. People had died and he hadn't said a word. Gods knew why, and Fang thought that perhaps it was better that way. The scars on his face, somehow, suggested that. Still...

She took a steadying breath. "You can tell me what you know about the pillar falling apart."

"What does that have to do with it?" the muscles in his jaw tightened.

"It would still be standing if my sister and I were still in it. I need to know why that changed." her tone was more firm now, nigh on demanding.

Shepherd paused, unsure if all he was hearing was making sense. He had seen Cocoon's fall and though he didn't see its rescue, he knew the story. And if she was telling the truth...

"You were Ragnarok?"

"In part, yeah. Can we stick to the point?"

"I'm sorry, it's just," it wasn't every day you saw prophecy in person. It was that whole "and the word became flesh" sort of shock. Look it up.

"What do you know?" she asked again.

He had offered his help, he resolved after a bout of indecision, and he couldn't take it back. Part of him wanted to, the same part that knew getting involved with this would end up being trouble. After all these years of trying to escape it, it found him anyway.

Finally he shrugged, his hand twisting into his hair. "The vampires...somehow they made their way here." he sounded like a man whose world was falling down around his ears one piece at a time. "They killed those two men...it must've been them that disturbed the pillar."

"All right, I'll bite. So where do I find them?"

He was really starting to regret letting her in. He didn't want to think about this, much less discuss it. "Why do you want to know? You're just asking for trouble."

Fang didn't want to accept it, much less entertain the idea, but there was little else. "I think they might have taken my sister."

Shepherd lifted his head suddenly, eyes wide open and expression unreadable. Then he casually stood up. "If that's true...you should forget about her."

"Are you kidding me?" she was trying to stay calm, but that had suddenly become very difficult.

"If she's lucky, she's already dead. Otherwise...you'll be searching for her the rest of your life."

"If that's what it takes, just point me in the right direction." she took his warning as a challenge and met it head on, standing up as well and looking him dead in the eyes. "Well?"

Shepherd admired her courage and, on the other hand, found it foolish. She didn't know what she was asking for. The two stood there in silence for a long while, perhaps waiting for someone to relent. Then, unexpectedly, Fang's expression softened. She couldn't keep the frustration, not when her despair was so deep.

"Please help me." her tone was now pleading, certainly non-confrontational. "I can't just sit here...I can't. I have to know if she's okay."

Shepherd's heart wrenched in a way he hadn't felt in a long while, and it was honestly painful. He had lost family, he knew that agony, but not to this degree. He had the luxury of knowing their fate. If he didn't have that...he didn't want to imagine it.

"You called me sister," she reminded him, "and that makes _her_ your sister too."

That hit him where it hurt, her words almost unfair.

He shrugged. "Very well...I will help you. Although,"

Fang held her breath.

"There are a lot of things I need to consider first. Give me until spring, when the snow melts. I will come to you then."

Part of her was relieved, the other still quite frustrated. Progress had been made, but there was still nothing to be done with it.

"Thank you, _han'tasa_," she tried to sound grateful, pleased with his choice, but it was hard with the vexation lingering on the edges of her attention. "Thank you so much."

"Do not thank me before I've served any purpose." he shook his head.

"But you have. You've given me a little more hope." and she smiled at him.

She would thank him for something so frail? Silly. "Did you come here with someone?"

"Oh yeah, Light's been waiting for me." though Fang didn't sound troubled by that at all.

"She's strange." he said. "Rude."

"Lightning's not so bad once she gets used to you."

"That cannot be her real name." his brow was flat atop his eyes.

"It isn't, but that's privileged information." Fang laughed a little. "She's got a good heart, really. She's just...anal."

"My people have a phrase for women like that." he paused, watching as Fang's expression almost begged him to continue. "_Ta'sol yim ha lun doh asa tasa sol bah deh roh._"

Once she got passed the subtle dialect variation and all the words came together in her head, she threw back her head and cackled for several minutes, to the point where she was almost sick.

"Damn genius!" she tried to catch her breath, one hand on his table to keep her balance. "I think you're on to something there." then she just realized something. "I never caught your name. I know everyone calls you shepherd,"

"It's what I do."

"I know. Still, what is it? I won't tell anyone, swear."

He found himself shaking his head. She was a strange one, but kind all the same. He was beginning to feel a kinship with her, and that helped him along to answering her question.

"Kushta Roc Teh'Han."

And immediately she understood why he didn't use it. Your name was the nature of you, what you were about. But she didn't show the pity she felt for him, certain he wouldn't want it.

"Yun Fang, glad we could finally talk." he knew where she was from, no need to tell him again.

"...As am I." as if he'd just decided that their encounter had actually been a good thing. "You should get back to your friend, it isn't good for anyone to be long out in this cold."

"Guess I should, huh?"

The two stepped outside together, departing as they had met with the grasping of hands and a brief touching of foreheads. With that the shepherd bid her farewell.

"_Tasa'han_," Be blessed. And then he disappeared once again inside the house.

Fang strode across the pasture with a grin wide enough to qualify as "shit eating". Lightning just looked at her, flabbergasted, Gurthang still at her feet though the sheep had long since hobbled away.

"Well?" Light asked, starting walk as Fang continued passed her.

"Well what? He's a nice fellow. Old fashioned, but nice."

"Nice? You're joking, aren't you? Are we talking about the same guy?" She had to be sure.

"Oh yeah. Like I said before," Fang smirked. "I understand men."

"And it's just like _I_ said...unfair advantage." Light shook her head. "So what did he say? Did you learn anything?"

"I think so."

"And?"

"Vampires."

"What?"

Light's reaction made Fang think about her own, realizing how silly it must have sounded for her to hear. "They brought the pillar down, killed those men, and attacked me. At least that's what it seems."

"What are they?"

"Not too sure, really. Never saw one before then, but the shepherd made it pretty clear that he did." he had a stronger connection to this matter than he wanted to accept. Fang had a strong feeling about it. "Said they feed on folks like us to survive."

"Like parasites." and just like that, everything began to fit together. Not completely, mind you.

Fang nodded. "But that doesn't explain why they were here in the first place. Why would they bother with a pile of crystal?"

"Did you ask him?"

"Didn't think to at the time, no." although she felt confident that he could tell her if she had. "Though I suppose your guess would be as good as any other. For all we know it could've been simple curiosity."

Light nodded, accepting the idea as possible. "What about Vanille?"

Fang's head lowered, a heavy sigh threatening its way out. "He said he would help, but couldn't do much for us until spring came."

"That's good, it's a start." Light tried to keep her friend's hope. "Only a month and half left in winter."

"I know. It's just...it's still too long to wait." Fang wanted to say more, relay what the shepherd told her about Vanille's possible fate, but decided against it. She didn't want to let the fear in, the doubt that would surely drive her mad. She didn't want to face it.

"We'll get by." Light said. "Everything's going to work out."

"I hope you're right." Fang tried her best to believe it, but found herself falling just shy of doing so.

Teh'Han puttered about the house for a long while after Fang had gone, letting the encounter play back in his head over and over as he found trivial things to busy himself with. Maybe it was just from the novelty of having a visitor. Although that was likely, it wasn't the reason. He admitted to himself that it had been a pleasant surprise, almost comforting to realize that his culture wasn't completely dead. Of course it wasn't, but long term separation often altered one's perspective of things.

Yes, it had been pleasant, but it had left him troubled in the end.

Somehow, for a long while, he had this distinct feeling that it wouldn't be very long until his past caught up with him. He knew it was coming, and Fang's visit was a testament to that. Vampires were part of the picture again, whether he liked it or not. He couldn't put his head in the sand anymore. Okay, that was the way things were now, but that didn't mean he liked it. And he sure as hell didn't have to.

But what to do? Though he had promised his help, he couldn't even begin to think of how. Teh'Han admitted, bitterly, that he was too afraid to consider all he could try to do. The last thing he wanted was to put himself back in that world, but equally detested the idea of going back on his word. He wouldn't be able to call himself a man if he did that. Then again, what he had been doing for the last sixteen years wasn't conducive to being a man either.

He had been hiding, no point in lying about it. He had been a coward, seeking refuge from many things, even his own name.

Maybe now was time to change that.

But where would he find the endless courage he was sure to need? He sat on the sofa for hours, puffing at his pipe and pondering the question. Sure, he had until the end of winter to straighten this out, but he couldn't have it haunting him for that long. He needed to get it straight now.

He was like this until early evening, having made absolutely no progress. It was then he decided to go for a ride, thinking it would help him think a little more clearly. He dressed and went out to the stable, demanding that Gurthang stay to watch the pasture as he started out. The dog whimpered and pouted, but did as he was told all the same.

Teh'Han had no clear direction as the chocobo ambled on its way, down into the steppe. He seemed content to let the bird take him anywhere. He kept just enough attention to keep the chocobo from walking into a chasm or the shadow of a Gui, but that was the long and short of it. He was otherwise distant, riding passed the settlement without so much as a brief glance. When the chocobo finally came to a halt, perhaps too tired or distracted by something, Teh'Han found himself in Vallis Media, never realizing they had even come this way.

He liked it here, it was quiet, and had considered building his home in the area when he first arrived. It wasn't spacious enough though, the soil too full of stone to have a decent garden. There was still ample snow on the ground, deep enough for the bird to leave footprints. Teh'Han dismounted, letting the chocobo go where it pleased. He could call it back when he needed.

The ride had done him some good, he could feel it. It had offered him a stronger sense of clarity, as if the change of scenery had lessened his unease somehow. Whatever change had come over him, it was a great boon to his train of thought.

He would have to go with them, he decided almost immediately. Come spring, he would have to take them there. He didn't want to, but it was the best choice. No one else knew those lands, knew about the people dwelling there as well as him. And he would have to take them to the capital city that lay in the heart of them. It wasn't that he doubted Fang's or any of her companions' ability to survive the trip, not at all, it was something else entirely. If they were to succeed they would need to know the inner workings of that city, that world within the walls. Something he already understood.

It was clear to him now. It was no longer a question of what to do. It was a choice of do or do not. And it certainly wasn't much of a choice.

Teh'Han leaned heavily against a large stone, his head back as he took a deep breath. He looked up into the sky, saw how it was starting to turn orange with sunset, watching a few wisps of clouds pass overhead.

"_Fal wim oae ton_." he shrugged. Gods give me strength. And he closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again his face twisted into a curious expression, his brow heavy over his eyes. Something was circling overhead, a small bird. It was no vulture, no hawk, so why would it behave like that? For a long while he watched it, and it simply circled and did little else in all that time. When it finally disappeared over the cusp of the crags around him he lowered his head, thinking it an odd occurrence but nothing to dwell on. That is, until it reappeared coming down the path towards him. Imagine his surprise, the look on his face, as the small bird came to hover just in front of him just before landing on his knee. And that expression held, his eyebrows high and eyes widened, as he looked down at the blackbird with shoulders painted like a sunset. It gawked back at him, making a strange purr.

Teh'Han's first instinct was to scare it away, going so far as to swipe at it with his hand, but it wouldn't leave. His frustration only grew as it refused to leave him be, going from perch to perch atop his shoulders and head as he swatted at it. The bird squawked and screeched, stubborn and unrelenting. Finally it pecked at his beard, snatching a beak-full of hair right out of his cheek.

Swearing he jackknifed off of the rock, calling to his chocobo that was but a few steps away. He quickly fled Vallis Media, out into the open steppe, and the blackbird only continued to follow. It fluttered around his head as he rode, even as he pushed his mount to go faster in hopes of outrunning it. No dice. This thing simply wouldn't leave him be. He would kill it were it not for the bad luck that would surely fall on him.

As the elders said when he was a boy; "_Teh'waen teh't'iem ta pah-roc, doh teh't'iem t'oae tasa doh teh't'iem ta Fal_." Do not harm the crows, to harm them is to harm the gods.

When he tried to return to the pasture, the blackbird threw an absolute fit. Shrieking as loud as its tiny body would allow and grabbing his ear and pulling as if to stop him. And it didn't cease its harassment until the chocobo turned, seemingly on its own, and started walking in a new direction. Away from the pasture and towards the settlement. The blackbird calmed after that, sitting on Teh'Han's empty shoulder as if nothing had happened. All the while Teh'Han grit his teeth, convinced this was the highest level of nonsense he had suffered in a long while. It served to reaffirm an old notion of his.

The gods hated him.

Under the thrall of the blackbird, Teh'Han led the chocobo on into the camp, corrected by a nip at his ear when he went the wrong way. Where was the damn thing taking him? And why on earth was he taking shit from a bird that his dog could swallow in one bite?

The blackbird took flight as they drew near to one of the many settlement dwellings, and it proceeded to peck madly at the door, again screaming bloody murder for one reason or another. Someone inside opened the door and it swooped right through, lifted voices of surprise erupting from its entry. It was only curiosity for what would unfold that kept Teh'Han from leaving.

The lot of them had just sat down for dinner, Light, Hope, Serah, Fang, and Snow. Hope had answered the mad pecking at the door, ducking as the bird came inside to start circling the table. For a brief moment everything was chaos. Pickles woke from his catatonic nap and, in a shocking show of ability, leaped from his perch to stalk the bird. That is, if you could define stalking as simply sitting still and watching your prey go by. The humans were doing their best to either catch the blackbird or drive it back outside. Hope jumped, arms up and missing the creature as his hands closed. Upon landing he lost his balance, falling backwards into something solid. He was sure the door was still open, though. He looked up to see the shepherd.

Everyone seemed to still when they realized he was there, allowing the bird to settle as well. It landed on the back of one chair, the one nearest Fang, and started squawking at her as if relaying a message.

"What's he doing here?" Lightning sounded wary, not liking at all anyone uninvited at her doorstep.

Teh'Han felt the muscles in his jaw tighten. "_Ta pah'roc ta'bah oae doh gul'fah_." and his tone was just as defensive. His reply made everyone seem confused, lost in translation somewhere.

"He said the crow forced him to come." Fang understood, but was still somewhat puzzled. How could this thing force him to do anything? Then she looked down at the bird. "What are you yapping about?"

On the slight chance that it would work, Fang held out her hand, floored when the bird hopped onto her palm. This allowed her a much closer look, allowed her to see the brilliant colors splashed across its shoulders.

"Never seen a bird like that before," Snow chanced a step closer.

"I haven't in a long time," Fang smiled a moment. "Not since before I was branded." She remembered those times very fondly, the memories clear as crystal in her mind. She and Vanille had watched them when they were kids, gone looking for their nests as children often just to sate some curiosity. They were almost like pets, and those rare few who were seen being followed by them were considered very lucky.

And that didn't change as they grew older, though they suited a different purpose. War had broken out, a threat from another tribe in the western reaches of the mountains, and the birds were gathered up to ferry messages back and forth from Oerba to the front. Fang had gone to fight while Vanille stayed behind, too young to follow. The blackbirds were the only way they could reach one another for a full three years.

Fang's smile suddenly faded and her eyes widening slightly. It was all clear now. Someone had sent this bird to her, someone who knew how.

"What is it?" everyone saw the look on her face, but Lightning seemed to be the only one stricken with enough curiosity to ask.

"Where did you come from?" Fang asked aloud, as if expecting the blackbird to answer in a way she could understand. It just cocked its head to one side. Fang knew they weren't in Oerba any more, but clearly they were still around.

"We could set it free and follow it." Hope said. It was a fair suggestion.

"We can't get through the pass." Lightning countered.

"Then we hold onto it until the pass opens." Snow made it sound like a simple answer to a simple problem as well.

Teh'Han watched and listened, feeling the need to shake his head. People from Cocoon seemed awfully silly, thinking they could dictate what the bird could and couldn't do. If they held it until spring, it would find a way out. If they set it free with expectations of it returning to its roost, they would be disappointed. It would go where it pleased no matter what they tried. When his eyes moved away from the bird, they met with Fang's though he had no intent for them to.

"What do you think?" she asked, noticing that knowing shadow on his features.

Teh'Han felt heavy. Now the gods themselves had seen to it that he get involved. There was no way around it now.

"_Oae lor'ta fah._" I know where, he said.

And he would show them the way.

Author's Note: My Pulsian language is still a work in progress, honestly. But I would like to think my attempts are noteworthy at best. As far as pronunciations (if you're curious) they are mostly phonetic. I borrowed a few rules from Latin as well, such as the "ae" combination making the long "A" sound. And words beginning with a vowel, the first letter has the hard sound. Except if it's "Y", then it makes the hard "E" sound. Also some words can have multiple meanings through context. I'm fine tuning it and working on a glossary as I go, so please be patient with me. So what does Teh'Han's name mean? And what was it he said about Lightning that gave Fang the giggles? My computer has crapped out, so it'll be a long while for the next chapter to come out. My apologies.


	13. Chapter XII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twelve**

If you look past the pale skin, the strange eyes, the heightened senses and need to drink blood, you will see that vampires aren't so different from humans.

Naturally they need to eat to survive, a heart beats within their breasts as a sign of life, they bleed when you wound them. And, like many humans do, they have appointed particular members of their society to oversee the management of the laws. These particulars were known as Bloodchiefs, direct descendants of the saints that were obligated by heritage to serve the common folk of their designated district. Twelve Bloodchiefs, offset by a mediator known as a Nocturnus, served on the city council and saw to all of Arash's political intricacies. From sunrise to just before sunset, five days out of every seven, the chiefs would convene at the citadel within Saints Plaza to discuss both old and new considerations concerning laws and liberties.

You could always tell a Bloodchief apart from other vamps, although it wasn't all that difficult to lose them in a crowd of their own kind. They tended to carry themselves a little different, one might say more confidently, and they always dressed to impress. Naturally they were rather wealthy, most of them owning land in their respected districts, so these thing were easy for them. If you couldn't catch on to that, it was the simple matter of their faces. Pure blooded vampires had the privilege to have facial tattoos, and each Bloodchief had a design unique to their district and family. The markings were all crimson in color and almost covered their faces completely, particularly around the eyes and mouth.

It wasn't uncommon for Bloodchiefs to...how to say..."hire" charges to manage some of their surplus properties. They would groom humans for years at a time and then turn them to make sure they would be able to do so for a long while. Finding people willing to fill these positions wasn't nearly as difficult as you would guess. Think about it, go from a destitute, sickly nobody, to an immortal with one of the most powerful sires in the entire city...sounds good to me. Really damn good.

Miriam had been one of those nobodies, and she was expecting her sire to call on her any minute. Once the morning session at the citadel went into recess. She had received a message by way of the blackbirds this morning that he would be coming to visit, something that happened in the frequency of once or twice of month. Nothing out of the ordinary. She alerted the cook to prepare a light meal while she had Tor arrange for chairs and a table to be placed on the back patio beside the fountain.

Hassan Ibn-Kalitas was Miriam's sire and a Bloodchief, a vampire who's reputation often preceded him. Standing at six foot six, his skin ashen blue and face covered in ripples of crimson, and his jet black hair shimmering red when the light hit it, Hassan was an outstanding member of the community. He was best known for his skill in the political arena, but also had a mark for generosity, something his fellow chiefs didn't often share. All that aside, however, he was most famous as the son of Kalitas, the founding saint of Arash. How could that be? Well, vamps live a long time.

With even, confident strides Hassan left Saints Plaza and headed down the main cobblestone thoroughfare that went straight through his own district. Passersby greeted him with a respectful nod or wave, something he responded to happily though it seemed to come scores at a time. Everyone knew his face so it was unavoidable. Once the adoring masses ebbed he was on his way once again, turning down a side street instead of continuing forward towards his own villa. He intended to go there once he had visited his charge.

Hassan took the liberty of letting himself in, the property was his after all. As he crossed the front lawn he looked about, mentally approving of how the place had been so well kept. He reached the front door and pushed through without knocking, completely comfortable in doing so. Tor was crossing the antechamber as the Bloodchief entered, the bondsman catching sight of him and suddenly collapsing to his knees.

"Oh come now," Hassan sighed little. "Get up man, the floor can't be that fascinating." and he pat Tor on the shoulder as a sign of permission for him to stop groveling. Tor lifted his head, looking fairly surprised with his eyebrows raised like that. He stood up, seeming almost uncertain as the Bloodchief continued on.

"Master, so good to see you," Miriam appeared from the stairwell leading to her office, arms open and smiling. "How are you?"

"I certainly have nothing to complain about." Hassan took his charge's hand and kissed her smooth knuckles.

"Perhaps you would like something to eat?"

"I suppose I could. Thank you." And the two proceeded to go into the garden, Miriam snapping her fingers so that Tor would follow. "You certainly have him trained well," Hassan continued as they stepped outside.

"Yes, I do." she seemed almost too proud of that fact as she waited for her bondsman to pull a chair out for her. "Now, please, help yourself."

"Don't mind if I do." and with a fanged smiled Hassan poured himself some wine. "I'm very glad to see how you've kept up with things here."

"Thank you, master." she snatched a branch of plump grapes from the tray sitting atop the table. "How are things at the citadel?"

"Oh, you know," he chuckled. "A bunch of old farts bitching and whining over every little thing. The usual."

"You're not an old fart, master,"

"I wasn't talking about me. Still, nothing much new to mention. I suppose that's something to be glad about."

"How's your lady wife?"

If vampires could blush, he most likely would have at the question. "Doing very well. We're all expecting her to deliver within the next couple of months."

"You must be so proud."

"Excited, yes, proud...not quite yet. I will be once the child arrives, to be sure."

"You'll be sure to let me know, won't you?" Miriam sold her consideration very well. Then again she always thought it easy to deceive her sire in to believing she actually gave a damn.

"Indeed." Hassan nodded. He tilted his head against his shoulder and his chin lifted, his eyes catching something that derailed his train of thought down another path. "So that's the broken window? I see, what a shame. I don't think that glass maker is alive now." He'd heard of the accident when he received Miriam's monthly expense report.

"Is that so? Oh drat," she pouted, seeming genuinely disappointed.

"How did it come to be broken?"

"Some stupid twat I purchased at the market a few weeks ago." she grumbled. "Fell."

"Really?" Naturally he wasn't all too eager to except that as the entire truth. "What did you do?"

"I kept it," Miriam sighed, "I paid for it after all, but it's been a chore finding things for it to do that I can trust it won't destroy."

"That much of a problem, eh?" Hassan lifted one eyebrow. "I've always thought you to have a fair amount of control over the house here."

"I do, but I can't control idiocy."

"Sweet saints, you're right. If that could be done I would lead the council." he laughed.

"Not much different than it is now, isn't it? Everyone kisses up to you, master."

"True as that may be," he admitted, sipping his wine again. "Still, might I have a look?"

"A look at what, my lord?"

"This problem slave of yours."

Miriam made a funny face, but only for a moment. It fell a bit flat. "I assure you it's nothing special. There's no need for you to bother."

"Just humor me, won't you?" and he leaned against the table, arms crossed and resting his elbows on it. His way of showing his insistence.

Miriam knew what he was up to, he'd done it a few times before. Still, he _was_ her sire, and she was obligated to do as he asked. So she snapped her fingers, enough of an order for Tor to comply.

"It's amazing how you've gotten him to do that." Hassan shook his head. "You have him wrapped around your finger." and that's what bothered him most about her. And Miriam only laughed with a smug grin at the comment.

Tor returned only minutes later and Hassan zeroed in on Miriam's supposed problem. She was a tiny thing dressed in tattered rags and barely tall enough to reach Tor's chest. She looked frail, underfed and pale. There were hints of wounds on her arms and legs, looking fairly new. He found himself dwelling on the pretty pink sheen of her hair, as any vampire would with a color so uncommon on a human. The Bloodchief stood that he might have a closer look.

Tor stepped aside as Hassan circled the girl, looking her up and down.

"How much did she cost you?" Hassan asked over his shoulder.

"Too damn much for the trouble." was Miriam's reply.

Hassan hummed, sounding guarded in his acceptance of her answer. He bent down, trying to see the slave's face, only able to see dirty cheeks and chin as her head was bent down. He reached out his hand, one finger curling and pushing upward beneath the girl's chin. She was cringing, eyes tight as if she hadn't seen the sun in while.

"Look at me," his tone was hushed, but demanding. He managed to catch a shimmer of green between the lashes. Then he stepped back, returning to the table and sitting down. He poured himself another glass and lounged back. "So how much did you pay?"

Miriam looked less than happy. "Two-hundred."

"Really? For that little thing? I'd say you were swindled."

"I thought the same thing." she sniffed.

"I'm actually in the market for an extra hand around the house." he hinted. "I wouldn't mind-,"

"How on earth did I know you were going to say something like that?" she laughed, sounding somewhat like she was getting screwed in a way she didn't appreciate. "I want twelve hundred."

"I will give you one thousand. That's more than enough for her and to repair the window."

"That window was one of a kind." her brow flattened firm over her eyes, her cobalt gaze cutting.

"Oh I know, I was the one that originally commissioned it. Still, one thousand is plenty. That two hundred will pay for her medical expenses."

This was the only time she hated him. Hassan was such a bleeding heart. "Fine, you can have her. Good riddance."

"Thank you, my dear." Hassan seemed pleased with himself. "I'll be sending someone by this afternoon to pick her up. He'll have your money as well. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Vanille watched the Bloodchief as he passed, not entirely sure who he was or what he was doing here, but had a faint idea as to what had just happened. She'd been sold to someone else. Part of her was elated, the other part was terrified. She listened as Miriam's chair skidded across the marble pave stones, the sound full of frustration. She didn't dare lift her head as the pointed heels of the vampire's shoes came clicking closer to her.

_Just keep walking...please, just keep walking._

But Miriam stopped. Vanille opened her eyes, still looking down, seeing Miriam's feet, one tapping, and her hands in fists at her side. Her fists shook, the fingers curled tightly. Vanille shut her eyes again, bracing herself for what she was convinced would be the beating of her life. It was coming. She could feel it.

"To think someone as retarded as you could be so damn lucky." Miriam hissed through tightened teeth. It was like releasing a pressurized valve. "I guess even the gods have a soft spot for morons." and on she went, much to Vanille's quiet relief.

With that aside, however, she still felt the need to fret. Gods only knew what was going to happen now, what her new master would be be like. Would he be worse than Miriam? Was that even possible? All she could do was wait and see, something she wasn't exactly eager to do.

_(-)_

Hassan went home, walking at a brisk pace to make it there with time to spare. He needed to return to the citadel soon, not to mention that it was looking like it was about to rain. The winds were picking up and clouds were rolling in from further south, meaning it was going to be a heavy and cold storm.

He walked in the door, greeted by a bowing attendant and several other servants as he made his way through. He returned the welcome but did so briefly, not wanting to stall himself. What he wanted most was to see his wife, a long walk worth making as, you see, the house was very large with three stories and a small multitude of rooms. Not that he had to search all of them to find her.

Kasa was one of the few female Bloodchiefs, eldest of the three children of Saint Altaire the Mystic. Her word was final in regards to her home district, although it was her younger sibling that managed it. She looked stately at six feet tall, long raven hair falling down her back that shone amethyst and blue when the light caught it, and a midnight blue silk gown. Her skin was pale, but not a faint shade of blue like her husband. More like a rich cream color, a color that many pure blood women shared. But, like her husband, there were crimson tattoos on her face, one of which that went across her forehead and matched his. Their marriage mark if you will.

Hassan quickly crossed the floor of his wife's room so that she wouldn't have to leave her chair by the window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. He knelt at her feet, taking her hands in his.

"What a pleasant surprise." Kasa smiled,. "To what do I owe the privilege of your visit, my lord?"

"Fortune smiles," he grinned, kissing the back of one delicate hand. "I simply had to see you, even if for but a moment."

"What about the lion's den, darling? Are they not expecting you?" she would often refer to the council this way, having served a stint there herself.

"I have a while yet." he assured her. "How are you feeling?"

"We are well." she laughed softly, taking one hand from her husband's grasp to lay across her very swollen belly. "Lots of movement from the little one today."

"Yes? That's wonderful," Hassan's face lit up, his fangs bared and the slits of his eyes widening slightly. "The child will be strong."

"I am hoping."

"Also, my dear, I have a surprise for you."

"Do you?" her expression showed her curiosity. When you had a husband who could give you anything, it was a genuine trial to imagine what he would present as a gift. "I don't suppose you are going tell me now, are you?"

"Heavens no, not now. Although you shouldn't have to wait long."

"I'm sure I will like it, my love." she always did. "And what of your brother? Is he not due back within week's end?"

"Last I heard." Hassan answered with a leisurely sigh, deciding to let his head rest in what little space was left in his wife's lap. "As early as tomorrow I believe."

"It will be good to see him." Kasa ran her fingers through his hair, something he adored.

"The man's only been gone two weeks." he sounded as if his twin being gone was nothing to bother anyone with.

"I know, but I do miss him."

"I understand." and then the Bloodchief shrugged, lifting his head. "But I am afraid I must leave you now, my lady. The citadel calls to me."

"Of course. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to see me." She put both hands on his cheeks and kissed him as a treasured lover would. a gesture he returned in kind, and then shared one with his unborn child by pressing his mouth against Kasa's middle.

"You gave me your heart, dearest one, it's the least I can give you in return." and he rose to his feet, blowing her another kiss from his palm before leaving the room. From there headed back to the ground floor and through a door into the back hallways. These seemingly secret stone corridors were mainly used for the servants to traverse the villa and remain out of sight, although it wasn't uncommon to see members of the house using them when in need of someone in particular and they were in a slight hurry. Hassan was quick to find who he was looking for, quicker in relaying his instructions, and quicker still in leaving that he might make it back to the citadel in time for the session to resume.

The Bloodchief had been after the house doctor, a man in his early forties by the name of Donovan. He had been part of the Kalitas household since he was a young man, where Hassan taught him how to read and, once his talent for it was evident, medicine. Donovan eventually became the only man that Hassan would trust to even set a foot near his wife during her pregnancy. With that being said, the fact that he was one of the most trusted servants is a given.

Donovan shuffled about the room, getting his many tools and things together while trying to dress himself at the same time. He draped his long leather coat across the examination table while he fished through drawers for what turned out to be an array of tinctures and salves. He lined all of them up on the top of his desk next to the typical gambit of tools. Once he was satisfied with the preparation, he finished dressing.

The master had told him of the errand to Miriam's, and that his bondsman would be accompanying him since there was a large sum of money involved. Of course he didn't object, although he did hate going there. Like most Donovan didn't harbor any good feelings for the noble. He had been to her villa and seen what she was capable of doing to others, hence the poor opinion. Not mention that it was raining by now, and I think it's safe to say that no one enjoys getting wet outside of a bathtub. Still, it needed to be done. Donovan buttoned up his coat and then pulled the leather cowl over his head, allowing the hood to rest behind him in a nest of folded material. After adjusting the metal collar round his neck, he reached for his hat and pressed it to his chest as he grabbed one last thing and left the room.

He met with the master's bondsman, Affir, in the antechamber. Affir was small compared to most of his kind, only five-foot-something, but he more than made up for his shortcomings with sheer capability. Forgive the pun, by the way. The vampire handed him an umbrella while cradling a sack of gold in the other arm. Donovan kept it closed until they stepped outside and he had adjusted his hat.

_(-)_

Vanille felt the terror surge up from her stomach when Tor came for her, grabbing her too firmly by the arm and pulling her along. She had the distinct urge to bit her knuckle, never mind that it would hurt something awful as it was already raw from her doing it off and on all afternoon. The bondsman yanked her up the stairs from the basement, and across the floor of the antechamber to the front door which was already open. The wind came through the opening, wet and chilling, and there Tor held on to her, his other hand outstretched as if waiting to be given something.

Her eyes first fell on the other bondsman, allowing her fear to hold her even tighter. He wasn't nearly as big as Tor, but he still scared the daylights out of her. Then she looked at the...person he was with. Head to toe in black and brown leather, a wide and round hat with white-tipped crow feathers pinned to one side, and a mask hiding his face. An ivory colored mask that resembled a sort of bug-eyed stork. And she found a strange sort of confused comfort in spying the metal collar around his neck, though more so puzzled as to the silver and crimson enameled medallion hanging from it.

Affir handed Tor the sack of coins, bracing himself as the larger bondsman shoved the girl into his arms and then shut the door without a single word. He felt the girl go rigid and tremble against him, could even smell her fright, so Affir passed her on to the doctor, exchanging her for the umbrella before they started on again.

Now Donovan fully understood the reason for the master asking him to come. The poor girl was in shambles. He would be surprised if she made the walk back to the villa on her own feet. However, her condition didn't surprise him, and it wasn't the worst he had ever seen. During his tenure had seen many bad cases, almost all of them having come from Miriam's employ.

"It'll be alright," he said, his voice carrying through the opening in the bottom of the mask. She only looked at him, still startled and wide eyed, still confounded by his appearance. Understanding, he held her close to him as they walked, an arm around her shoulders for the entire trip back. Once inside, Donovan thanked Affir for his escort before dismissing himself back into the hidden hallways, Vanille still tucked beneath his arm.

Vanille noticed straightaway how warm it was in the darkened, torch lit corridors. She could hear echoes of voices and footsteps that seemed to come from all over, dozens of them. There was a crash of what sounded like cooking pots as they passed one of many wooden doors that were along both sides of the hallway. When the two of them stopped at one of them, he pushed it open and allowed her inside before him, closing it as he followed.

"Just have a seat there," and he pointed to the table, which was surprisingly cushioned.

With a little doing she managed, crossing her ankles together and crossing her arms as if cold. She was freezing actually, but was distracted from it as she watched the man take the mask off. He had well kept, dirty blonde hair and dark blue eyes. He seemed nice enough, his facial hair giving him a certain familiarity that reminded her of her father, and she found herself feeling a little more secure.

Donovan lifted the cowl and hung it beside his hat, his leather coat going right next to it on the wall once he had shrugged it from his shoulders. Now he wore a very simple cotton shirt and suspenders to hold his trousers up. He washed his hands in a basin beside his desk, drying them as he turned to face her.

"My name's Donovan," he smiled. "Most everyone around here simply calls me doc. You can call me whichever suits you." when she didn't answer, only stared at him, he added. "What's your name?"

Part of her was unsure to answer. Was she really allowed to talk? Here? "Vanille." she finally replied, sheepish in her tone.

"Pretty name, though I haven't heard it before." he set the towel down and went into his desk again, finding a piece of paper and a charcoal pencil and started writing. He went through a typical routine of twenty questions, asking for her age and so on. Mostly for the sake of records, but he found it also helped people feel more comfortable with him. It almost always worked.

"Now, Vanille," he started gently, "I doubt you'll like it, but I'm going to need to you undress."

She shuddered.

"I need to take a closer look at you, girl, I'm sorry." and he handed her a sheet he pulled out from under the table. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to do it."

Well, she figured after a moment, at least he had a degree of empathy towards her reservations, although it didn't make her like it any more than before. Even when he went into the room adjacent to this one, it wasn't any easier. When he came back he picked up the scrap she had been wearing and threw it in the wastebasket beside his desk.

"I'll have some new clothes for you later." he explained. He then went around the table to where he could face her back, not wanting to have to get _that_ personal right away. He cringed at the mess of half healed lash marks that went up and down her body, realizing rather quickly that they probably went down her legs as well. At least none of them looked infected.

"Anything in particular causing you any pain?"

She thought about it, chewing on her bottom lip with nerves and the effort in trying to remember. "The back of my head."

He gently felt around for what she was talking about, finding a sizable bump a little ways above the nape of her neck. "What happened?"

"I fell."

"You fell," he repeated, but questioning, "or you were pushed?"

How could he have known? "P-pushed."

Donovan nodded quietly, not needing a full explanation. "It's healing...is it just tender?"

"I think so." she wasn't entirely sure. Bouts of uncertainty seemed to have become more frequent for her since she fell.

"Any fainting spells or loss of memory? Nausea or fever?"

"No." not that she knew of.

He felt her shudder when he put his hands to her back, feeling up and down her spine and neck. He didn't even have to try to feel her ribs. Poor thing clearly hadn't eaten in a while.

"What about this?"

She knew what he was asking about, could feel his finger tips on the brand at her hairline. "No pain." she answered.

He was quiet a moment, shrugging. "Can I ask why you ran?"

Vanille couldn't find it in her to not answer him, though it took a long moment as she felt the hot onset of tears. "I...just wanted to go home." It was that simple.

Donovan nodded. He could understand that, having felt the same way for a very long time. He even had his own marks to show for it. "Being stuck with an owner like that, I'm not surprised. Although I am a little astounded that her bondsman hasn't tried to ditch her yet too."

Vanille almost laughed, agreeing whole heartedly.

"Anything else? Anything on the front of you I need to know about?"

She knew he was trying to be considerate, although it was a strange way to go about it. "I...I think my nose is broken."

"Really?" it hadn't appeared to be when he first looked at her. Upon closer inspection and a light touch that caused the girl to wince, it was decided that it was indeed injured. "Oh dear. This going to hurt."

Vanille simply braced herself, holding breath and her tongue between her teeth as he grabbed the end of her nose and pulled. There was a loud _CRACK_ that brought tears to her eyes as a painful reflex. She held her face in her hands for a moment, expecting it to start bleeding like mad.

"Sorry." he said sincerely. "It'll be tender for a while, but at least it'll heal straight. Now, if there's nothing else, I need you to lay on your stomach."

She agreed without complaint, without flinching as he took the sheet and situated it over her so it would only cover her backside. With her arms crossed beneath her chin she waited, Donovan going to his desk and then coming back again with something in his hands. Vanille shivered when she felt him smear something on her back, something sticky and that smelled sharply like mustard. Then air hissed between her teeth as she took a sudden breath. Whatever it was had begun to sting.

"I know it hurts, deary, I know. But it won't be for very long, I promise." he said, sounding truly sorry that he had to do this. "It'll help you heal faster, and it won't scar so bad."

Vanille could appreciate that, really, but it still hurt like a bitch. Soon her entire body was tight with the pain, and all she could do was lay there and take it.

Donovan pulled his chair around so he could face her, having a seat. Small talk would help her keep her mind off of it, he thought.

"How long have you been in Arash?"

So that's what it was called, she mused. "About two months...I think."

"You don't look like you're from around here." he noted aloud. His next idea was to ask about any family she might have, but then thought again. It wasn't all that uncommon to have slaves who had been snatched from outside the city, their kin wiped out. Perhaps, he figured, it would be best not to bring that up.

"You know, in spite of what you might be thinking, my master is a kind man. He won't hurt you like Miriam did."

Part of her was ready to believe that, the other part was ready to tell him to shove it. So she didn't answer either way.

"Look," he could tell she was less than convinced. "I know its tough, believe me, I've been there. But it will get better. Trust me."

She wanted to, he seemed like a man she could count on, but it was safe to say that her confidence was shot.

"Give yourself a little time." he shrugged. "Has it stopped burning yet?"

Vanille hadn't noticed it but, yes, it had. She nodded, causing him to stand up and go to his desk for the towel that he might wipe the stuff away. With that done he dove into another drawer.

"Could you sit up please?"

She turned over, quickly grabbing the edge of the sheet to hold against her chest. And when Donovan stepped up close to her, he used his finger to lift her chin. Without being able to see she listened to the sound of something snapping, a metallic sound that was followed by the loosening of the manacle around her neck. Donovan pried it apart and pulled it away, letting it hit the floor.

Vanille put a hand to her throat, feeling the tender skin instead of cruel steel. "Ah, thank you."

"You'll have to wear one of these instead," he pointed to small ring of metal around his neck, "but it can wait. I hate those damn things, no one seems to care how heavy they are." and Donovan shook his head. "Anyway, I have another matter to see to at the moment. I've drawn a bath for you in the next room, so help yourself, and I'll finish your exam afterwards."

She nodded as he left, sitting there for several minutes after until she was positive he was gone. Call her a little paranoid. Then she slid off the table, one hand still holding on to steady herself. With a death grip on the sheet she shuffled across the room to the other door, opening it in an almost cautious fashion. Did she expect a horrible monster to leap out of it?

One lamp on the far wall lit the space within, allowing Vanille to see the bed to her right, and the bathtub to her left. For a brief moment she wasn't all too sure which to lay in first. She was exhausted, but most of all, she was dirty. She rolled the sheet up, setting it on the floor before stepping into the water that was nigh on too hot. Wincing as she sat down, the water felt like bee stings on the lash wounds, but it was brief pain. When it was gone, and the water reached her shoulders, she was left with the sensation of all her muscles letting go. Her body simply went limp.

For a long while she simply lay there, her head resting against the porcelain, her eyelids drifting up and down. The only thing keeping her from falling asleep right that second was the thought of drowning, the thought of how stupid a thing it would be to do. With that in mind, after a moment, she decided to sit up and take advantage of the bar of soap and sponge.

This time alone, not scared out of her mind and biting her knuckle, gave Vanille time to think if nothing else. Thoughts, both related and estranged, fluttered about between her ears. The most prevalent were those pertaining to her current situation. Why had this other vampire bought her? Who was he, what was he like? How did he know Miriam? The only thing she knew for certain about her new owner was that he had to be disgustingly wealthy to own a home this large.

Three stories, an ivory facade from stem to stern, bronze domes over the main structure and the spacious pavilion, and columns that would stretch for miles if laid end to end. And that was just the front of the property, no telling what was hiding in the back. It wasn't a villa, she decided, it was a palace.

Another thought that demanded her attention was what this vampire had bought her for to begin with? Maybe it was just menial tasks around the house, which didn't seem so menial considering the size of the place. Or maybe she'd be put in the kitchen shoving around dirty dishes. The more possibilities she considered, the more she felt herself cringing. And then there was the worst case scenario, which she refused to acknowledge altogether. She shook her head until the idea vanished, but it didn't quiet the fever of rampant thoughts in her head.

Donovan was back within an hour, softly knocking on the door to get her attention. Just a light _tap-tap-tap_.

"You all right in there, deary?"

"Yes," she had jumped a little at the sound of his voice, but only because she was half asleep.

"Why don't you come out now, I have some clothes for you."

It took some doing, but Vanille eventually stood up, water splashing as it ran down her body and she stepped onto the floor. She felt as if she had just shed a layer of skin, skin she was happy not to have to wear anymore. She bent down and grabbed up the sheet again before going to the door and opening it a bit. Donovan had his head turned away as he reached out with the folded clothing in one hand. She took and then stepped out of sight.

"It's a little big for you, I know, but it's clean." He added. "It'll do until we get you squared away, anyhow."

And it was big. The tunic was warm, soft, but it reached to her knees. Not that Vanille was about to complain about something so little.

"You look so much better," he grinned when she stepped out from behind the door.

"Feel a lot better, too."

"Good. Are you hungry?" she didn't answer, but the look on her face said plenty. "Very well. But first thing's first,"

He gestured for her to come closer, having her stand right in front of him. He had a stretch of metal in his hand, thin and rolled into a curl. Much like before he put it around her neck, but with a little more care, and squeezed the ring closed. It was much lighter and less constricting than the manacle she had been wearing. True, she didn't like it any more, but it was certainly a better alternative.

"And...there we are." the work was finished once he had put the silver pendant onto the up curled ends of the collar. "Is it too tight?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's fine." as fine as a decoration like this could be. "What's this for?" she asked as she eyed the medallion.

"I spoke to the master not moments ago, and he told me you would be working a great deal in the public area of the house like me. That being said, you might actually be allowed to leave the villa, so you need to wear that as not to get into trouble. It lets everyone know who you belong to." he hated saying like that, but it was the truest form of things.

"Oh." upon closer inspection, Vanille found that the crimson enamel was arranged in a design, perhaps the family crest of a stylized dragon.

"Everything should be ready for you soon, but we can eat while we wait."

Thank the gods.

The kitchen was one of the largest room in the hidden halls, second only to the store room. It was well lit with lamps and the fires of the roasting pits and stoves. It was busy at this hour, the day shift of servants now off duty and coming to have supper. A long table was arranged in the middle of the lengthy room, everyone bumping elbows with one another in order to have a seat. All of them looked weary, but by no means despairing. They talked and joked and prodded one another as they relayed the events of the day. Needless to say that Vanille found the scene a bit unusual, all things considered.

The entire operation of feeding the household was under the management of woman with dark, curly hair with touches of gray, maybe four foot nothing, and of the physical persuasion that a hard gust of wind might put her on her rear. She was a tiny thing, but one could say she had a big personality. To put it simply, she had balls of steel.

"There you are, Donovan," her tone was one of happy impatience. "Where've you been?"

"You know, busy, busy." he smiled submissively, before walking up to the tiny cook and giving her a kiss. "How are you?"

"Just as you said, busy." she laughed. "Go ahead and have a seat if you can find one, darlin'. I'll have a plate fixed for you."

"Could you get something simple together for our new friend as well?"

"What new friend?" and her eyes fell on the one standing just behind him. "Oh my word...she's nothing but bones! Come on and have a seat, dear."

The woman snatched Vanille by the wrist, shooing away a few men lingering over empty plates to make a space for her. Vanille just seemed confused, eyes wide and wandering as Donovan sat down in front of her.

"She seems nice." Vanille ventured to guess.

"Oh she's wonderful," Donovan had his chin resting in one hand, his eyes having a strange dreamy quality.

"Who is she?"

"My wife, Beth." he sighed like a youngster just smitten.

"You're married?" she honestly didn't expected it, thinking that slaves simply weren't allowed to.

"By the saints, yes. I'm the luckiest man alive." he came out of his twitterpated stupor for a moment. "It's not a typical thing, to be sure, but...we both worked hard, behaved, and the master allowed us to. Of course it isn't binding by law, but it still counts as far as we're concerned."

Okay, maybe this vampire had earned a brownie point for that. He had to be doing something right for one of his servants to regard him with such reverent awe.

Vanille couldn't keep her attention on Donovan once a plate of food had been put in front of her, and she didn't notice that Beth had sat down with them. She was just too caught up in the idea that she was finally able to eat something. a fair portion of bread that was no more than a few hours old, a bowl of soup that smelled too good to care what was in it, and tall glass of something cold and wet. Again, not so picky as to what it was. She dove into it right away after a quick, easily missed "thank you".

"My goodness, the poor dear," Beth sighed. "Where did she come from, love?"

"I picked her up from Miriam's this afternoon." he replied, swallowing the bit he had taken just before speaking.

Beth shook her head. "How long you suppose she was there?"

"She said she's been in the city for nearly two months...I would imagine it was just as long. She'll be fine though."

"That's good." she brushed a few strands of unruly hair from her face, making visible the near disfiguring scar that ran from the corner of her mouth, back along the line of her jaw, and down her neck to her collarbone. "That woman should be staked."

"Now, dearest, that's not a nice thing to wish on someone."

"I'm not trying to be nice, sweety. I don't care who she is, _nobody_ has the right to treat someone that way."

Vanille listened, confident her and Beth were going to get along swimmingly.

"Not so fast, Vanille," Donovan warned, "don't want it coming back up."

She didn't want to slow down, her stomach had been twisted up in empty knots for what felt like forever. She didn't want to, but did it anyway, thinking vomiting would be more uncomfortable than the empty knots her stomach had been twisted up in. In the end she convinced herself that the food wasn't going to get up and walk away, which made it easier to take her time.

Vanille stopped when she felt full, which came much sooner than she thought it was. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that Donovan _made_ her stop when she felt full, warning that it wouldn't be good for her to eat too much too soon. She didn't hold it against him, it was nice enough just to have a tummy that wouldn't be groaning all night long.

The three of them sat a while longer, chatting, but mostly Donovan and Beth as Vanille was suddenly finding it hard to stay awake. She couldn't hold her head up after a while, letting it rest on her arms atop the table. She slept that way for several minutes before Donovan tapped her gently, pulling her out of a light snooze.

"Let's get you to bed, deary."

Bed. What a great word.

Donovan bid his wife goodbye for now, and then walked Vanille out of the kitchen and further down the hidden hallway. At the very end was a flight of stairs that took them to the second floor where another corridor waited. More doors every so many feet, but only down one side by the looks of it. They stopped at one almost halfway down, Donovan opening the door for her again.

The room inside was filled with bunk beds, at least a dozen pairs along the walls. A few of the lamps were lit, most of them out as beds were occupied.

"This one should be empty. At least it is during the night." The doctor whispered. "Lots of shift changes, you see. Anyway, the master wants to see you before sunup, so I'll be here to take you to him. Once you're off duty I'll fill you in on how everything else goes on around here. Until then, just try and get some rest."

Vanille almost couldn't accept what she was looking at. It was a real bed, a pillow, blanket, and a mattress on a frame. So simple, but so very welcoming.

"Thank you." she said softly, sincerely.

"Oh it's nothing. We try to look out for each other here." his face reddened a little, feeling on the spot. "Well...I suppose I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Without a second thought she put out the lamp and crawled into bed before he'd even shut the door. With a heavy sigh she pulled the blanket over her head and shut her eyes. She couldn't have fallen asleep any faster if she tried.

Morning came far too soon, making it a chore for Vanille to open her eyes as she felt the distinct shake of someone's hand on the curve of her shoulder. She rolled over with a groan, catching herself as she dwelled precariously close to the edge of the bed.

"I know you don't want to, deary, but you need to." it was Donovan, and that meant the sun hadn't even come up yet. "I have breakfast for you." and that served to garner her full attention. she snapped into a sitting position, now fully awake. She spotted the bundle of wax paper in his hand which he surrendered gladly. Within was a hot, buttery biscuit the size of her fist stuffed with scrambled egg.

"Good to see you still have a healthy appetite." he smiled. "Normally someone comes up here a while earlier to serve the morning shift, but I wanted to give you a few more minutes to sleep."

"Thank you," she said after swallowing her first big bite. "It's very good."

"I'll be sure to tell Beth how much you enjoy it." he nodded. "Also, I have your work clothes for you. The master tries to keep us well dressed if we're around the public more often."

Vanille wasn't expecting anything like the nature of clothing he presented her with. Emerald dyed cloth that shimmered in the light. It looked expensive, although that wasn't really the case, something a noble was more likely to wear than a slave.

"I wish I could help you put it on, but in all honesty I don't know how." Donovan laughed with a hint of nerves in his voice, with reddening cheeks. "A lot of the girls around the house wear it, though, so...you know. You could ask one of them is you have any trouble."

"I think I can manage." she laughed a little, looking sideways at the folded garments.

"Best be moving along with that then. I don't want to keep the master waiting much longer. He'll need to be leaving soon."

"Where to?" she finished the last bite of the biscuit.

"He's on the council of Bloodchiefs, so he's a very busy man."

Vanille's eyebrows lifted. "Sounds like it. What's a Bloodchief anyway?"

Naturally the doctor looked surprised. "You _aren't_ from around here."

"Didn't we establish that already?"

"Indeed." he eventually shook his head. "Well, I'm sure you'll learn more as you go. Now lets get a move on, yes?"

Vanille nodded, grabbing up her new clothes. "Any idea what I'm doing?"

Donovan quickly turned away so he couldn't see her changing. "Not in the slightest. The master wouldn't say. Although I would imagine it far better than what Miriam had you doing."

Anything was better than that. To be honest, she would be content with shoveling chocobo shit so long as it wasn't under the stabbing eye of that colossal bitch.

It didn't take long at all for Vanille to get dressed, although it took quite a while for her to grow accustomed to wearing so little. It was an outfit seemingly more suitable for a dancer or a call girl really. Her entire midsection was bare as well as her shoulders and a vast majority of her back. What the material did cover it did so like a second skin, hugging her breasts and hips in the worst way, or best depending on who you ask. The wrap around her waist just barely brushed the knee and hung low enough for her belly button to show. And almost all of her near vanished wounds were visible.

When Donovan finally thought it right to turn around again, he paused a moment. "It suits you."

"I feel nigh on naked." she confessed.

"Well, you can't blame the master. He's still a man after all, and the vamps do love shiny things. You'll get used to it." he shrugged. "Come along then."

Vanille followed him out of the hidden hall and onto the public area of the second floor. The personal chambers of the Bloodchief and his family were on this floor, with guest quarters on the third, and reception areas and the dining hall on the ground. She walked close beside him, trying her damnedest to ignore the itching need to cover herself, managing in doing so by letting her attention drift to the massive windows that lined the corridor. It was still a bit dark outside, but it looked like the storm had moved out.

The two turned a corner, stepping around a group of servants who were rolling up a long stretch of the rug to clean the marble underneath. A little ways further down they found the master of the house waiting patiently.

"Ah, there you are," Hassan greeted with a smile, his fangs showing and the slits of his eyes flexing.

"Good morning, master." Donovan returned the gesture with a customary bow, a gesture Vanille tried to copy, though a bit rigid in doing so.

"Go ahead in, Donovan, and give the missus a once over. Let me chat with the little one here a moment."

The doctor bent at the waist once again before stepping through the nearby door, quietly shutting it behind him. Vanille found herself suddenly tense, not liking how the vampire looked at her. He had the strangest eyes, something she had yet to see since coming here; pitch black slits and a strange mixture of bright orange and gold surrounding them.

"You seem to be feeling better, that's good." he stepped around her, having a look. Something a lot of vampires seemed to tend to do, she thought. "That color definitely suits you." he was still grinning. "Though I have a question."

She didn't see that coming.

"What Miriam said, about you being a bit touched," he started, looking clearly curious. "Are you?"

He wanted to know if she was retarded. Surprisingly, no, considering all the blows she took to the head at that woman's courtesy.

"I don't...think so," Vanille replied with reservation, "m-master."

"That's what I thought." Hassan laughed a bit. "She has a bad habit of exaggerating things. Now, I suppose at this point you're wondering what you're doing here."

Had been since yesterday, but now works too.

"Well, my wife's a wee bit lonely and I'm gone all day. But I don't want her up and about too much because of her condition. Basically I need someone to keep her company during the day."

That sounded almost too simple, like the other shoe was going to fall any second now.

"Shouldn't be too difficult; if she needs something, you'll fetch it for her, and just call for Donovan if something goes wrong."

Vanille just had to wonder how sick this woman was. Could vampires even get sick? Apparently so...

Donovan reappeared then. "Everything is fine as can be expected, master."

"Wonderful. That will be all for now, Donovan, thank you." and the doctor took his live when Hassan nodded. "Now come on, little one, I'm afraid I'm a little pressed for time."

The Bloodchief gave Vanille a gentle push into the room, standing just in front of her as they crossed the room. His wife was in her chair by the window, a book in her hands, much like yesterday.

"Good morning, husband," she set the book aside when she realized he was there. "Come to kiss me goodbye?"

"Of course my dear," he replied in a matter-of-fact sort of way. "But I also have something else for you."

"Is it the surprise you promised me?"

"It is." Hassan was beaming with excitement, stepping aside that his wife might see what he had brought for her.

Vanille wasn't exactly sure what to do, or if she should do anything at all. So she simply stood still, allowing Kasa to look at her, finding that the woman's peculiar violet eyes were somewhat haunting, and realizing she wasn't sick at all. Just very, _very_ pregnant.

"She's cute, husband," she seemed to approve, but there was an odd tightness to her face. "A bit young, though."

"Oh come now, turtledove, just give the little one a chance." he insisted as he knelt at her feet once more. "Think about it, you finally have someone to play canasta with."

"Yes, and perhaps she'll be a better challenge for me than you." she gave her mate a cat-like grin and kissed him. "Thank you all the same, my love. Now I suppose you have to go?"

"Afraid so," his sigh was saddened, but his smile didn't falter much at all. "I will see you this evening."

"Goodbye, darling." and she watched him leave with a visible hint of longing. Then her eyes lifted from the empty doorway to the only other person in the room. "So,"

Vanille felt herself stiffen to attention.

"Do you play chess?"

Funny question. "N-no...I don't know how...m-ma'am."

"Then I will teach you."

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. Had computer trouble and only recently was able to get it fixed. And sorry about the filler. I'm getting around to getting back on the plot here shortly, either by next chapter or the one after, just wait and see. Hopefully I won't bore you too badly until then. Be sure to check out illustrations for this fic at ".com" If you can't see the address, just go to my profile.


	14. Chapter XIII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirteen**

The northern wastes (technically the north western) was a desolate stretch of flattened land riddled with a few marshes and mud holes, and that contained some of the largest swaths of the Sepulcher with its vaulting canyons and cruel ravines.

This was the land where the Nighthawks and Bondsman were said to come from, and where they coexisted with a large band of Pulsian natives known as the Kes'shi, or the "strange ones". Garnering such a title was easy seeing that Gran Pulse was so rife with grasslands and fertile land, but they chose to live in such a inhospitable area. It was rumored that they respected snakes as their tribal protectors, their clothing and sari dyed various shades of green, their tattoos always resembling the reptiles somehow. And through such homage, they supposedly had strange powers over other people. True, it was only rumor, but even rumors tend to have a small seat in truth. Few things that were known for certain of them was that their talents for archery and horsemanship were second to none.

It was out here, among these people, that one would find Hassan's twin brother Tezzim. A natural copy of his brother from his physique to the tattoos on his face, with the small exception of more firm cheekbones, and a dark purple sheen in his black hair. With a small contingent of bondsman and pack mules, he rode through the wastes towards home. The trip had not been pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. It had been hotter than hell, the sun unrelenting and without so much as a cool breeze to relieve the burn. The nights were brutally cold, enough that there would've been snow if there was any moisture in the air. Every day and every night were the same. Hot and cold, over and over for around the time of two weeks.

What on earth would the brother of a prominent bloodchief be doing out here in this hell hole, you wonder? Well, to put it simply, he went to retrieve someone. And why would someone like him bother himself with a task he could've easily pawned off on someone else? Well, that's a question of a more intimate nature, isn't it? Nosy. For the time being just be satisfied in knowing that he found who he was looking for, and was now escorting the good lady back to Arash. Just as he had promised.

Tezzim, barred from being Bloodchief due to his being the younger of the twins by a few minutes, was the standing Magistrate of the Fine Arts in Arash, and he'd come to this saint forsaken speck of ground to retrieve his finest musician.

Sabine Sinclaire was a no nonsense sort of woman in her mid-thirties with a pointed chin, an equally pointed nose, and a pointed gaze that could pierce straight through a steel door. Her warm chocolate colored hair was always tidy, kept away from her face and in a bun or twist, seeing to it that her deep green eyes were visible to anyone she needed to see or be seen by. And though she was of a slightly diminutive stature, only five-eight with soft and delicate curves, she was far from diminutive in nature. She demanded a great deal of respect from everyone, and earned it fairly.

A prodigy since she learned to read, Sabine started writing music when she was eighteen, some time after she was given to Tezzim by a merchant who had been caught trying to screw the vampire over. For a short while she worked for Tezzim at the conservatory with filing, until he realized she couldn't read. Although it wasn't simple illiteracy, it was the fact that she couldn't see well enough to read in the first place. Typically that wouldn't bother him or command any sense of urgency, but then he discovered her talent for composition. Without being able to see the score he was working on with one of the other professors, she discovered the reason why it simply didn't sound quite right and adjusted it. It was only after that he decided to have glasses made for her. Then he let her work on her own just to see what she could do once she had the right tools.

Since then the conservatory had been receiving previously unheard of amounts of donations from the nobles who, apparently, greatly appreciated her work. With such astounding results and so little initial investments on his own part, Tezzim couldn't help himself but to repay her with her freedom. He signed her certificate of liberty and presented it to her as a gift on her birthday. Since then, you could say the two were nigh on inseparable as both professionals and friends.

With the exception of the last ten years.

Not long after being released, and elected to the high position of Maestro, Sabine decided she needed to find where she came from, go back to her roots so to speak. And that would be found, she discovered, in the wastes with the Kes'shi. For the last decade she had been with them, living as they lived, listening to their music, and hearing their stories. All the while working on her newest composition, something she referred to in letters as her magnum opus. It wasn't quite finished yet, but it would be very soon.

The experience clearly changed her, and Tezzim could see it.

"I will miss them," she said in passing, "but I have missed Arash even more."

"And Arash has missed you." Tezzim grinned, saying "Arash" and truly meaning "I". "It has not been as enriching since you left."

"How so? Were the understudies I left in my stead not competent enough?"

"In a way, madam, in a way. They insist on playing your requiem mass in the public theater over and over. It has become a bit tedious over the last few months."

"Well, that is one of my most popular pieces." she smiled, something she didn't often do. "And what of you, my lord? How have you fared in my absence?"

Tezzim chucked, watching the ground as it changed in the steady steps of his horse from desert sand and rocks to sparse clumps of grass. They would soon be out of the Sepulcher. "I could not keep busy enough to stop missing you. I found myself...empty and uninspired."

"You will have to forgive me, then. Perhaps I could make it up to you?"

"Mayhaps you can." his grin was devilish as he nodded. "Mayhaps."

Sabine laughed. "It would appear that my lord hasn't changed at all since I've been away."

"Indeed." and his reply was a mixture of a growl and a purr. "But all of that can wait until after the banquet."

"What banquet, my lord?" one thin eyebrow lifted as she turned to look at him.

"The one I have arranged for you as a welcome home gift, tonight, at the conservatory." now he was smug, his grin stretching. "And you are going to enjoy yourself. You are forbidden to touch or even think about anything resembling work until tomorrow."

"You know that's next to impossible, my lord. Musicians don't have schedules, they do or they don't."

"And you _won't_ do anything until tomorrow. Is that clear?"

Sabine shrugged, but was still smiling. "Yes, my lord. As you wish."

And hearing her say that sent a tingle up his spine. He decided then that they had been apart far too long.

_(-)_

Chess was not a simple game, and Vanille was thoroughly convinced she sucked at it. She understood the object, the rules, how all the different pieces were meant to move, but there was something about the game she just couldn't wrap her head around. It seemed like Kasa could see several turns ahead, knowing exactly what she was going to do from the start. Then again, strategy was never really her strong suit.

"You are a very cautious player." Kasa said as the two of them stared at the board, pieces somewhat scattered across the ivory and wooden squares.

Vanille lifted her eyes, straightening. "I am?"

"Yes." Kasa grinned with slight amusement. "Are you afraid to make a mistake?"

Perhaps. Then again, the two hadn't spent enough time together for Vanille to get a feel for the woman's temperament. If Vanille gained any headway against her in the game, that could prove to be a mistake in itself.

Kasa could hear the girl's heartbeat, could hear it flutter under her scrutiny. Poor thing was frightened, of her most likely. That wasn't uncommon. Many of the servants in the house, the girls in particular, were much the same when they first arrived. It was a troubling trend.

"Put the board away for now, if you please." Kasa asked.

This took Vanille by surprise, forcing her to pause for a moment, but she did it all the same. As she gathered up the pieces she wondered if her surprise came from the request, or the fact that it was a request and not a demand. She returned the game to its place on a shelf and returned, standing beside the chair.

"Please, sit," the vampire offered. "Now tell me, why are you so frightened?"

She couldn't answer at first.

"Don't tell me that you're not." the vampire smiled. "So what is it?"

Vanille felt her mouth try to open, her voice attempt to show itself, but no dice.

"It's my kind, isn't it? You still haven't adjusted to us." she ventured to guess. "You're free to answer."

Maybe, Vanille thought for a moment, all she needed to speak was permission. "W-well...maybe."

"Have you never seen us before?"

"N-no, ma'am." Vanille shook her head. "I had... no idea there was such things as..." she was almost too afraid to say the word.

"Hm, curious." Kasa's eyes shimmered, a thin eyebrow lifting at the novelty of such an idea. "I would imagine, then, that your behavior is not all that unusual."

"I suppose not."

"With that being said, I would venture to think you find us rather...alarming."

Fangs, claws, eyes like serpents, the need to feed, and wrapped in the most deceptive form of nature's design. "Y-yes."

"I understand." the Bloodchief nodded slowly, her hands folding over her belly. She'd often seen such reactions from human children at their first sight of a vampire, cowering and yet stock still at the same time. But she also accepted that this was different. Servants lived in a completely different world, had to see things in a different way. They had much more to fear.

"But I would think you are also curious." most humans were. "You look bright enough."

Perhaps she was, if only a little. She could feel herself relaxing a bit.

This is what Kasa was missing while her husband and brother-in-law were away, someone to talk to. And you could imagine how difficult it was to have casual conversation with the help.

"So...what are you curious about?"

"Pardon?"

"Ask me anything."

Where to start? So many questions...well, now that she was at liberty to think about them in earnest.

"Well...where did your kind come from?" Vanille knew how man came to be on Pulse, but not vampires.

"There's an old story," Kasa began after a moment, shifting in her seat. "Do you know of Titan?"

"Yes." Vanille answered with a degree of confidence. "I saw it."

"Did you?" the slits of her eyes narrowed. "And here I thought it wasn't real. Arash was still made from felled timbers when I was born."

Vanille wasn't sure whether to be impressed or not, although she had a feeling she should be. A city this grand would have taken decades to construct, and Kasa looked no more than twenty-something.

"Well, then perhaps you can tell me if any of this could be true. Some of the elders say Titan swallowed a man and a shadow to make us. Others say we came before humans and were part of their creation. Anyone who was there is long gone. But, whatever the circumstances to our making, it is a well accepted truth that Titan wanted to destroy us. For what reason," she only shook her head. "But our forefathers gathered together and fled, eventually finding their way here." and then she went on to mention the saints and their significance.

All of this Vanille found rather fascinating, most of all their supposed longevity. But a realization also occurred; the blood lust was an anomaly caused by the particular churnings of Titan's bowel. Not sadism.

"So am I close?"

"I...I suppose." there was no legitimate reason to say no. "It's possible."

The vampire laughed. "That's certainly comforting, my husband will be delighted to hear about this. Ask me another." she was beginning to have fun, a glimmer in her eyes showing her excitement.

Another? It was hard enough just thinking of _one_. And, in all reality, she only wanted to know about one other thing.

"Why..." her caution was holding her back, "why is there slavery here?"

"Ah," Kasa nodded, knowing. "The million talon question. If you can believe it, my husband has often asked that question. I remember hearing of how he would ask his father,"

"W-what did he say?"

"I'm sure, by now, you know of our...how to say...needs." she waited until Vanille nodded before continuing. "At first, it started out as a way to punish criminals, and then it started showing promise as a lucrative business to support a stagnant economy. But, in all, we do it because it keeps us fed. Most of us have no dislike for humans, or much like for the way of things, it is just something we must have.

"My husband and I do our best to take care of those in our employ, however, unlike most. The way he put it, which convinced me to change my mind in the first place, is that it's best to be good stewards of what keeps us alive. Show kindness to the humans, and they will willingly share with you."

In a strange way, there was sense in that. Vanille could almost excuse half the bad shit that had happened up to this point. Almost.

"Many of the other chiefs don't agree with Hassan, often called him crazy, but I understand what he means. It wasn't long after out marriage that I lost the thrill that feeding once had, feeling more like a common thief. It was a strange time for me." and she almost laughed. Laughter in a way those teetering on the edge of sanity often did. As if the confusion was amusing.

Their conversation would have likely continued on in that direction if there was not a gentle tap at the door. Out of reflex Vanille stood expecting someone in particular, or perhaps just paranoid. When Kasa gave allowance for her visitor to enter, it was only Donovan.

"Good afternoon, madam," he bowed his head, "sorry to interrupt."

"Not at all. What is it?"

"Just making my rounds, and you have a visitor." and the doctor stepped aside, allowing the aforementioned guest to come in.

Tezzim strode through the door, his clothing and hair and face still dusty from his ride, and his arms as wide as his toothy smile.

"Sister dear, you look ab-_so_-lutely radiant," his jovial voice echoed off the walls. "And how's the little bun in the oven?"

"Tezzim, so good to see you. Forgive me if I do not stand up."

"Of course, of course," he shook his head, dismissing the petty issue. "You seem to be doing well."

"Yes, I am, and the child."

He knelt beside her on one knee, leaning over the arm of the chair so he could press his ear to her belly. "I think I hear the little one...this is so exciting, I simply can't wait!"

"Well you must, just like the rest of us." she gently burst his bubble as she gently pushed him away. "How was you journey? You look a little red."

"So much sun, sister darling, so much," he shrugged as he stood. "But, overall, it went well. The maestro is back in her tower, and in one piece I might add. And, saints be willing, the theater will be presenting her newest masterpiece within a number of weeks."

"That's wonderful," Kasa seemed genuinely interested. Perhaps she appreciated the arts as much as he did. "It's been far too long since we've heard something new."

"Indeed." Tezzim nodded, his arms crossed. Then he turned his head slightly to the side, finally noticing that certain something that hadn't been in the room before. The slits of his fiery eyes narrowed, showing a keen interest.

Vanille felt a cold shiver go up her back when she felt his eyes settle on her. She didn't like how his eyebrows lowered and his mouth stretched into an almost sly grin. She tried not to look him in the eyes, even as he started taking slow and even steps towards her, but it was nigh on impossible.

"And who," he growled, bending down and getting so close to the girl that the tip of his nose almost touched hers, "is _this_, sister dear?" For a human she was staggeringly beautiful. And that hair...

"Hassan gave her to me as a gift. Isn't she a wee bit young for you?" Kasa laughed.

He straightened. "We all need love, don't we?"

Vanille shuddered to think what he was talking about, and when she attempted to, it just made her feel sleazy. The feel only magnified when he looked back at her, this time down his nose, making himself seem ten feet tall to the tiny mortal.

"And here I thought all of my brother's taste was in his mouth." he chuckled with a hint of approval. "What is your name, little one?"

Oh god, they really were twins. "V-Vanille."

"Ooh," the slits fluxed again, setting a little wider. "That sounds...sweet."

"Tezzim, stop, you're frightening her." Kasa sounded just serious enough for her in-law to obey, but her expression showed that his behavior was amusing to her in some way. Do I even have to say that Vanille was quite terrified at this point? "You're such a beast."

"I won't deny it." he stuck his chest out. "Although I'm afraid I have to run. I need to freshen up, have a party to host tonight. Good evening, sister." and he took his leave with a courteous dip of his head.

"You shouldn't let him bother you, he's really harmless."

Vanille nodded, but didn't believe it. Something about him...

_(II)_

Dash felt someone shaking him, calling his name in an excited hurry. His eyelids parted only a little, his eyes sliding behind them to see what was going on. Before he could react, Helm took his thumb and pressed it to his sire's eye, forcing the lids apart.

"Time to wake up, or we're going to be late."

Dash twisted away, sitting up from his comfortable position, grumbling as he scratched his head. "What the hell is going on? Is the city on fire?"

"No, my friend, not quite. Now let's get a move on, yeah?"

"What's the rush?"

"You need to bathe and get dressed, or we're going to be late to the party."

Dash's eyes opened wide, blinking in genuine confusion. "Party?"

"That's what I said." Helm was grinning from ear to ear, tightening the satin scarf about his neck. Something he hadn't owned before. In fact, all of the clothes he was wearing were previously unseen.

"Where did you get that?"

"Bought it. Yours is there." and Helm pointed to the fine suit hanging from the dilapidated wood wardrobe. "It didn't cost too much, so don't worry."

Dash sat up straight, his feet on the floor, now fully awake. "And what's this party you're rattling on about?"

"Maestro Sinclaire is back in Arash, so there's going to be a banquet this evening to celebrate."

"We didn't get invited."

"No." he admitted, and then smiled. "But our dates did. Both of them are singers in the orchestra."

Dash's brow flattened. "You're sure you're not just trying to trick me into thinking they're singers?"

"No, no, no. It's for real this time. _Free_ fine dining is involved, so naturally I wouldn't lie about it."

"Naturally."

"Come on, you old sod, just trust me for a change."

"Fine." he shrugged in defeat, standing up and reaching for the new outfit. "This is...quite nice actually."

"Knew you'd like it. Now get the lead out, yeah?"

Dash took the clothing, disappearing into the washroom and shutting the door. "So what are they like?" his voice carried from behind the rickety door.

"They're young. Human. And they've got all their teeth, just so you know."

Dash laughed loudly. "Thank you for that consideration." Reinforcing the idea that there was an incident where that hadn't been the case. "What do they look like?"

"Well, I got myself a fine young blonde," Helm seemed exceptionally proud about that, "and yours is an elegant creature with dark red hair that nearly reaches her perfect backside."

"Sounds like fun. How did you manage this anyhow?"

"Like I've told you," Helm shook his head. "I know women."

"The hell you do." Dash laughed again. "You know women's body parts. That's the long and short of it."

"Just hush up and get dressed." he demanded. "Or I'll go without you and tell them you ran off with Francisco Argenti."

"You do and you'll come home to find me gone along with an empty bank vault."

And that kept Helm firmly in his place, never mind whether or not they were on time.

_(III)_

Tezzim had enjoyed the food, the excellent selection of wine. It had gone steadily all night long, finally coming to a close after midnight. The party altogether had been magnificent, he remembered as he lay in bed. However it wasn't his bed he was lying in. He didn't go home after the banquet, and instead followed the maestro to her apartment within the higher floors of the conservatory. Per her request he remained, and the two spent the next few hours in the throws of passionate lovemaking. Ten years apart had indeed made their hearts grow fonder for one another.

Now the two lay there in the wee hours of morning, twisted up in the sheets, exhausted.

Sabine couldn't stand to lie still for very long, though she was tired. The need to write, to soothe the constant ring of notes in her head was greater than the need to sleep or cuddle. She shimmied out of Tezzim's embrace and reached for the oil lamp on her bedside table. With just enough light to see by she found her glasses, and then opened the drawer to find a pencil and a stack of score sheets. Some of them had already been written on.

Tezzim's face tightened, eyes scrunching to keep the light out. Vampire's eyes are very sensitive, as I'm sure you knew already, and even a little light could prove uncomfortable.

"I said no work until tomorrow." he grumbled, his face buried in a pillow.

"It became tomorrow at the stroke of midnight." she replied softly.

"Hmm...touche." he then twisted on his side, facing her and blinking until his eyes adjusted. "Can it not wait, love?"

"No, it can't." she replied.

"Come now," he tried to snatch the pencil from her hand, a gesture she shied away from. "We've only a couple more hours before I have to leave. Let's not waste them."

Sabine paused, her hand going from a maddening seizure of putting notes onto paper to a dead halt. She put the pencil and the paper flat in her lap, taking a breath to shrug. She then took off her glasses, turning her head towards him.

"How would you have us spend them, my lord?" there was no innuendo in her voice, no playfulness. Which was actually quite common.

Tezzim smiled in a way that Sabine understood, and only few others fully did. He scooted closer, his lips just touching her cheek. "I'm thinking of many activities that we could occupy ourselves with."

"Just like you occupied all the others while I was away, I'm sure."

Tezzim eased away, his expression a somber one. "Yes, that is true." then he lifted his eyes to settle on hers. "But you are the only one I have ever _loved_."

"Then why does my lord not turn me so that we might marry?" she had asked him that before, before she left for the wastes. Perhaps now he would have an answer.

"Well," he resigned with a sigh, "I don't believe now is the right time."

"Is that all? Or perhaps you know you are incapable of being faithful to one woman."

He let his head fall back, exasperated. "My darling, it isn't that. I only imbibe in the joys of another woman when I cannot have you. Once you are mine, I will see to it that you know for as long as I live."

"Then why will you not turn me?"

"Because," he leaned in close again, one clawed finger pressing perilously close to the swell of her breasts, "I haven't decided if this is the you I wish to see for the rest of our lives. Perhaps I'll be surprised and like you best when you hair turns gray."

"I do _not_ wish to grow so old." she snapped.

"Well, that settles that, then. And I wouldn't want to run the risk of you losing interest in me."

"Indeed." she watched his finger carefully, like a hawk, as it inched lower and lower while he spoke.

"Although I am growing to love how you look now. You've...matured since you left." her breasts had become fuller, her hips as well, and there was a grace about her only aging could bring. The look of passing mortality on her was stunning for him to see, something no vampire maid could give him. "And these tattoos are striking."

Her time with the Kes'shi had garnered her a great deal of things. A new view of the world, of the people that were nurtured by Gran Pulse, and a new hobby. She took to archery like it was second nature, it was in her blood and those people could see it. In time they decided to put her on a horse, a black monster with stark white hair named Phantom, and when she could hit a series of targets at a full gallop, they saw it as a sign from the gods. Something about her was very special. They gifted her with Phantom, and then went through an elaborate ceremony. The women sang while the men tattooed her with serpents, one down each arm with the tail curled at the shoulder and the head just above the wrist. It was to signify the lethality of a Kes'shi archer, like that of a viper. One bite, one kill, and not a sound to be heard in warning.

"I'm glad you appreciate them." she nodded after a long pause, being brought out of reminiscence as his large hand fanned across her stomach. "I was concerned that you would not."

"My dear, please, I enjoy native art very much. Especially if you're part of it. Perhaps you could model for me again soon. Now," he reached for the paper and pencil still in her lap, tossing them aside, "let us not waste the time we have."

She put her glasses on the side table where they had once been. "Will you promise to at least consider my desire?"

"My love, your desire is my desire." he had always been a giving lover. Even before they were sexually involved he had been attentive to her.

"Do you promise?" she sounded more insistent, grabbing his wrist so that it couldn't move another inch.

He shrugged in the end, knowing there was no argument. "Of course, my dearest heart. As you wish."

_(-)_

Two weeks have passed since Vanille came to work for Hassan Ibn-Kalitas and his family. It had been, without a doubt, two of the easiest weeks she'd had since coming to Arash. Keeping the lady of the house company wasn't exactly what one would consider "work", not by any stretch of the imagination. The master was kind with his words and generous with his gratitude. Perhaps the most effort Vanille had to exert was in avoiding eye contact with the master's brother who, for a time, seemed to be everywhere she went. She simply blamed it on the paranoia and went on with her day.

"So what is with the mask?" she asked Donovan as they sat across from each other. Kasa had dismissed her so she could join the others for lunch.

"Pardon? Oh, that. All the doctors in the city wear them, that way we're more recognizable. That, and we servants aren't supposed to show our faces in public."

"Oh." the reply made her pause, a sort of disillusionment having happened.

"I hear that you and the missus are getting along rather well."

"I suppose." she thought about it a moment. "I amuse her at the least. I think."

"That's good. If she's pleased then the master will be also."

Vanille nodded, as if coming to some realization that eluded her before. "Everyone seems so excited about the baby."

"Oh yes, we are very much. You see," he paused to wipe a smudge of mustard from his mouth, "it's not as easy for vampires to have children as it is for humans. If they conceive at all, the pregnancies tend to be problematic."

Ah, so the vampires weren't perfect? Even they had flaws?

"Lady Kasa has already been through three failed pregnancies; two were miscarriages, and the third was premature resulting in stillbirth."

"My goodness. That's awful."

"Indeed." he nodded. "It was hard for both of them, and dangerous for the madam. But everyone has high hopes for this one. No trouble so far, thank the saints."

Vanille found herself suddenly sympathetic towards her owners. It was a strange, almost unwanted notion, but it stayed all the same. But only for a short time.

"You seem to be adjusting." Donovan was smiling. "I'm glad to see that."

she nodded without a word, thinking about it. Maybe she was. "It's been strange. Difficult at times."

"I understand. Hard to sleep I bet."

"Yes."

"What's keeping you awake?" it was a common question for him to ask as everyone's reason was different.

"Just...homesick I guess. I miss my family." she was starting to notice the creeping need to cry.

He nodded again. "That's fairly normal."

She had imagined as much, to be sure, but that didn't make it any easier. "Do you have any family, Donovan?"

"Ah," he took a sip of milk before continuing. "I don't know. I haven't seen my parents since they sold me. I'd imagine they've long since gone."

Vanille choked. "What?" she gawked at him, unable to believe what she had just heard.

"Oh, I don't suppose I told you that already, did I? It does tend to surprise people." what was easily the most boggling thing about it was his apparent indifference to the subject. "Don't feel bad for me, I don't."

"Why would someone do that to their own child?" Vanille just couldn't wrap her head around it, thinking it absolutely criminal. She honestly felt the impulse to cry.

"I would imagine it was for a good reason, at least that's what I told myself. Still," he paused a moment, still untroubled, "it doesn't bother me. Beth loves me enough." and he smiled.

Vanille had to wonder where this man must have come from. How did one go through life as he did with the fierce blow of your parents putting a price tag on you? How? She could not, that was certain. She couldn't say with any confidence where she would be without her adoptive father's love. Most likely she would still be here, but you get the idea.

The clock on the wall of the kitchen chimed the hour, and everyone at the long table started to move at once. The soiled dishes were stacked at one end as the servants left to return to work. Vanille felt the need to hurry back, but resisted when she realized that Donovan was following her. Apparently they were headed for the same place. Must have been time for him to check on the Kasa again. The amount of protection the entire household seemed to show towards her was quite humbling.

Both of them were somewhat surprised to see Kasa out of her chair when they arrived, and no longer in her silk house clothes. A small host of servants were helping her change into something else, something someone would normally wear when going out.

"M-my lady, is something amiss?" Donovan addressed her curiously.

The vampire turned and smiled at him. "Not at all. I simply wish to go out, I have been cooped up in this villa for too long."

"Not by yourself!" he paled, his hands clutching.

"Of course not," she laughed, "the two of you are coming with me. See to it that she's ready and meet me downstairs."

"Oh...very well...y-yes ma'am." and he quickly turned about on his heels, turning Vanille with him as he hurried back the way he came. All the while Vanille wasn't entirely sure as to what was going on. But she didn't ask, and only assumed that this sort of thing didn't happen often. At least, that's what she could tell by the uneasy look still hanging on Donovan's face.

The two went back into the hidden hallway, to one of the many doors lining the passage. Inside appeared to be the communal wardrobe for the servants, shelves stuffed with various articles of clothing and things of the like. With the hurry of a nervous man Donovan went through it all in attempts to find what he needed. When he returned he passed her a pair of leather sandals, but held onto something else.

"Those should fit you just fine. If not, they'll do until we get back."

"Where are we going?" she asked, lifting one foot to rest against her knee as she put the sandals on.

"I don't know, that's what concerns me. I understand the missus can go where she pleases, but I do worry." And Donovan waited for her to straighten again before holding up the other something in his hand. A white silk veil that he held by the thin golden chain that was somehow woven into it. With care he looped either end of the chain around her ears, keeping the stretch of semi-transparent silk in place.

"There we are," he seemed satisfied. It kept her face hidden, but didn't cover the silver tag on the collar. Now she was able to leave the property without threat of arrest under suspicion of escape. "Now let's hurry along." They still needed to stop at his office for his hat and mask before going to the ground floor. From there they stepped out the front door, seeing Affir standing at the foot of the stairs beside a horse and carriage, hitched up and ready to depart. Kasa was already seated comfortably inside.

"My lady wishes to be taken to the Khalastria district." Affir said once the doctor was close enough to hear passed the natural hush of his deep voice.

"Ah-hah," Donovan nodded, understanding right away. "Does the master know about this?"

"I am to notify him once you have left."

"Oh. I suppose we'd best be on our way then."

"Be careful. Drive slowly." the bondsman cautioned.

"Always. Come along, Vanille, you're riding up front with me." and he smoothly climbed up to the driver's bench, taking the reins in one hand, and offering the other. Vanille took his hand, surprised to feel a helpful push from Affir who she hadn't known was so close behind her. She looked back at him from beside the doctor, unsure of what to say, and could only manage to nod her head in quiet things. A gesture the vampire returned just as the reins snapped and the horse began to walk.

"Affir isn't a bad fellow," Donovan said, like he knew what she was thinking, "just quiet."

"Are they all like that?" Tor had been, and Affir wasn't showing much evidence of the contrary.

"I think it's part of their breeding, to be honest. I really can't say for sure, but it seems like most of them are that way, doesn't it?"

Vanille nodded, suddenly captivated away from the conversation as they left the property and went out into the proper of the city. It was her first opportunity to really have a good look around, and now that she did, it was easily decided that she had never seen anything quite like it in her life. The gilded domes, the villas and fountains, the statues at the plaza, it took her breath away.

Khalastria was the patron saint of medicine, known formally as Khalastria the Gentle. Before her death at the age of seven-hundred and forty-four, she founded Arash's only hospital and medical university. From there the district slowly expanded to include an animal hospital as well as a very fine spa, all of which was overseen by her ten children. With that being said, did I mention she was also known as the patron saint of motherhood?

The staff at the spa must have known that Kasa was coming, as three of them, humans dressed in white, were waiting just outside of the building. Donovan pulled the horse to an easy stop, encouraging Vanille to step down and help Kasa out of the carriage, something she did with all the hurry of someone eager to please. The lady Bloodchief's hand was chilled to touch, but trusting to her servant's support as she stepped down. The attendees circled around Kasa and walked with her up the stairs.

"I have to take this 'round to the stables," Donovan said, "but you stay close to her, you hear? Watch her like you would your own mother."

What an odd thing to say, she thought as she nodded, turning on her heels and hurrying up the stairs to catch up.

Inside everything was white, the stone flooring tiles and all the walls. It looked so clean, so sterile, not what many would consider relaxing. Then again, maybe the color scheme was meant to appeal more to vampires. Whatever the reason, it caught the sunlight that bled through the many open windows and doorways, creating a natural ambient lighting throughout, leaving no need for a torch or candle. Once within the threshold you could smell a myriad of incense and warm oils, it was everywhere, encouraging the sensation of melting in one's muscles with each inhale. Okay, now _that_ was relaxing.

Vanille did as Donovan said, remaining close by as the entourage moved along.

"Would you like your usual room, madam?" one of the attendees asked.

"Yes, that would be fine."

"What services would you enjoy this afternoon?"

"A warm bath...and a massage would be delightful. Is Rodrigo in today?"

"Yes, madam, I will be sure to let him know you're here. Will there be anything else?"

"I believe that will do, thank you."

The room the attendees lead them to was bright with light coming through a vast open window, no glass, only silken shades to dampen the breeze wafting through. Candles flickered, dozens of them, each a different color and with a different aroma in the smoke. Lavender, sandalwood, cinnamon, and warm honey. You know, those kind of scents that would make you wet yourself if you dared to enjoy them to the fullest.

The middle of the marble floor was sunken in and filled with water, a gentle veil of steam hovering over the surface. Nearby was a cushioned table much like the one in Donovan's office, but was most likely for another purpose entirely. There was another, smaller table, with fluffy white towels piled atop it, what looked to be just in reach of the bath.

There were dozens of rooms just like this one, along with others that were pitch black, without any openings to the outside, with rows of beds. It was a typical thing for council members and nobles to come here for a power nap in the middle of the day. And beneath them was the heart of the spa, a hollow but secure foundation where ovens were constantly working to keep the baths hot and the air spiced with botanicals through thin, almost invisible vents in the floor. An architectural wonder.

The attendees helped Kasa change clothes, into a simple white robe, before leaving her and her servant alone.

"Mind the door, would you? I don't wish to be disturbed."

Vanille jumped a little, not expecting to be spoken to. "Sh-should I wait outside?"

"Yes, that would be all right." and she stepped down into the warm water, ending the conversation.

Vanille quietly stepped through the silken veil that was meant to be the door, if you could really call it that. Personally I would've expected more privacy, but that's just me. She knelt down and tucked her legs beneath her right beside the opening, lacing her fingers together and letting her hands rest that way in her lap. For a long while she simply sat there, twiddling her thumbs, wondering why Donovan wasn't back yet as the minutes ticked by. Did it really take that long to stable a horse? And where was this Rodrigo fellow? Maybe she was over thinking this, or maybe, at this point, being idle just felt unnatural.

Fifteen minutes...twenty five minutes...a half hour passed and something didn't feel right. She jumped slightly at the steady thump, thump of boot heels coming down the hall. The tension eased when she saw it was Donovan, but only for a split second. He didn't acknowledge her presence at all as he strode passed her, stepping without a word into the room after shoving the silken curtain aside. Vanille turned onto her hands and knees, looking into the room to satisfy her uneasy curiosity. Kasa didn't appear to know he was there, her back to him and her head bent down as if napping. Vanille pulled the edge of the curtain aside, wanting to see more clearly. Somehow she was still certain that something was off kilter. Was it the way he walked? The way he lingered just at the edge of the bath, hands behind his back and silent? No, it wasn't that...wait just one damn minute...when did Donovan dye his hair? Or had it just spontaneously changed from blonde to black?

It hadn't.

Vanille reacted in a way she hadn't expected. She scrambled to her feet, breaking into a hard sprint towards whoever it was in the doctor's clothes. She shouted wordlessly as she leaped onto his back, latching onto him with both legs tight around his waist and both arms about his neck. The impact forced the hat and mask from his head, revealing him as a complete stranger, a very angry and seemingly determined stranger. He twisted hard, wildly in Vanille's grasp in attempts to grab her. With her added weight he lost his balance, splashing down into the bath as they fell.

Vanille held her breath all the while trying to keep her grip on the intruder. Somehow he managed to pry her arms apart, jerking himself around to face her, and his hands searching beneath the water for her. She panicked at the feeling of him squeezing her throat, her breath threatening to let itself go. Her heart was pounding, a cloud of precious air escaping from her open mouth as she clawed at his hands. He shook her hard, the back of her head smacking into marble as he pulled and pushed. As a last ditch effort to keep from drowning, she loosened her legs from around him and planted her feet on what felt like his stomach, pushing with all of her strength. When she felt him let go, she scrambled to get her head above water.

He didn't want to kill her, no, not the slave. She didn't know it, but he was doing her a favor. All he wanted was the Bloodchief, one of the many blood-sucking sacks of filth that had made his life a living hell. He reached into the front of the stolen leather coat, finding the knife he had smuggled in here, a knife he lifted from the corpse of a bondsman he'd killed this morning. He turned, his steps sloshing water on the risen floor, to face the now vulnerable vampire.

Vanille sputtered, trying to breathe, pulling herself half out of the water and onto the floor. She felt like throwing up, the tender spot on the back of her head alight with fresh pain. She turned her head, blinking her vision clear as it settled on the man. He looked poised to strike, arms out, knees bent, knife tightly gripped in one hand, and yet he just stood there. For several seconds he stood absolutely still. What was he waiting for, wondered a small spark of curiosity, but then her eyes fell on Kasa. She had stepped to the far end of the bath, a towel pressed against her naked body, and she was looking at him. Just...looking right at him with all the composure of a statue.

Vampires were blessed with many abilities, one of which being great strength. But, as you can imagine, that came to the men in greater measure than the women. But mother nature saw to it that they weren't entirely helpless. Something about their eyes, the slits would dilate until all you could see was black, an endless darkness that pierced right through you. Like looking down the barrel of a gun.

Vanille watched, terrified and amazed as the man was locked in Kasa's gaze, and then knife towards himself. There was a tightness in the man's face that betrayed a sense of resistance, a rebellious snarl, but it wasn't nearly enough to deny her intent. He buried the blade to the hilt in his chest, a gargling _urk_ lurching out of his mouth before he collapsed. The water started turning red.

"Are you all right?"

Vanille heard Kasa, but was almost afraid to look at her. Afraid that gaze would make her do something. She only nodded, droplets of water falling from her chin and the tips of her hair.

The staff was alerted shortly after, and Donovan was found on the floor of the stables. His lip was split with a nasty bruise forming beside his mouth, but he was otherwise unharmed. And, naturally, a messenger was dispatched to the Lord Bloodchief at the citadel, who was likely to be here very soon. Until then, the resident bondsman of the spa stayed in the room, letting not a soul in or out.

"I don't know who he is." Donovan shook his head, a handkerchief pressed to the edge of his mouth. He looked down at the body that had been removed from the bath, the body still wearing his clothes. "I didn't even see him." No one had seen him, no one knew who he was or where he'd come from. There was a manacle around his neck that marked him as a slave, but that was the only clue to his identity. "Are you all right, madam?"

"Yes, I am." Kasa seemed untroubled as she sat in a chair, dressed in a fluffy white robe with her hands folded in her lap. "A little startled, but fine."

"I will be sure to have a closer look once we're home again." he nodded.

Vanille was quiet, her arms crossed over her chest to hold the towel around her shoulders. A little voice in her decided she was in a mild state of shock, unsure of what just happened or if it had even happened at all. The only thing she was assured of was that there was a body getting cold on the floor in front of her.

When Hassan arrived he was beside himself, nearly sprinting through the building to reach his wife. He shoved passed the bondsman, who wouldn't dare try to stop him, and he appeared on the verge of tears when he saw Kasa.

"My love, I came as fast as I could," he crossed the floor in only a few strides, arms open and falling to his knees when he reached her. "Are you hurt?" He held her tightly, his head pressed to her chest.

"I'm unharmed, husband." she hugged him back. "Although I may not have been so fortunate were it not for your gift. She saved my life."

Hassan looked up at her, surprise in his teary eyes. He kissed Kasa's hands before standing up and then walked to stand beside Vanille. She only looked up at him, feeling dwarfed by his height for a moment. She stood up when he gestured to her with his hand, and then suddenly stiffened when he put his arms around her and held her close.

"Thank you," he said, almost sobbed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you,"

She didn't know what to say, or what to feel. She hadn't even expected this to happen in the first place. And this feeling lasted even after he had released her from his sincere embrace.

Author's Note: This took a while, I know, bit of a hang up near the end. I knew what I wanted to do with it, I just wasn't sure how to go about it. Next chapter I'll be revisiting Lightning and Fang, and with any luck I'll be able to focus on them more intently after one last interlude with Vanille and the vamps. And thank you so much to "LazyMio" for you reviews. I'm very pleased to entertain you, and I only hope that I can continue to do so.


	15. Chapter XIV

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Beth fussed over her husband as the two sat near the middle of the long table. She was trying to convince him to put a cool, raw slab of meat on his face to ease the swelling, but he wouldn't have it. He was certain he would be fine without it.

"Come now, lover, at least humor me," Beth was pulling the worried wife card, her eyes set in a way that reminded one of a lost puppy.

"I'm all right, dearest, really, just a little tender is all." he refused for the last time. "No need to waste food on something so trivial."

Beth shrugged. "If you insist, you stubborn old thing."

Donovan only laughed, knowing she wasn't saying that to be hurtful. Vanille watched from her seat across from them, entertained as well as fascinated to watch how they acted. It was probably the only thing keeping her awake right now, that and the nagging headache that refused to depart. It was late, surely after sunset by now, the adrenaline from this afternoon had worn off hours ago, and she didn't feel like eating. All she wanted to do was sleep.

"You all right, deary?" Donovan dipped his head to see Vanille's eyes, finding them closed as she held her head in her hands.

"Tired." she replied.

"I can imagine. But you should try and eat just a little before going to bed."

She shook her head, scratching the back of her neck. "I'd fall asleep in the plate." she said with a little laugh as she started to stand. She bid him goodnight and left the dinning hall, walking the distance to the dormitory on the second floor only half aware. She found an empty bed in the darkness, taking a moment to remove the sandals from her feet before lying down. Vanille pulled the blanket over her head, curling into a bit of a ball beneath its warm security only seconds before sleep overtook her. For the next two hours she didn't move, just slept dreamlessly. And I specify the time to warn you of the upcoming disturbance. Isn't foreshadowing awesome?

Vanille rolled over at the first gentle push on her shoulder. It took two more before she responded again, pulling down the edge of the blanket so she could see what was going on. She was greeted by the dull glow of a candle, and the stark shimmer of white slits in the shadows that made her jump. She blinked until her vision cleared, finding that it was Affir standing there.

"My lord wishes to speak with you." He said.

For a moment she just stared at him, her heart trying to recover from the minor scare that nigh on led to a heart attack. Then she nodded, begrudgingly pushing the blanket aside to stand up and follow him. When they left the hidden hallway and went out into the house, Affir blew out the candle, able to see just fine without it, and the moonlight coming in the large windows and radiating off the marble was enough for Vanille to see.

Vanille found herself rather terrified. What did he want? Had she done something wrong? Would this be when the other shoe dropped and all would go to hell in a hand basket? She swallowed hard, her mind buzzing with possibilities that steadily went from bad to "oh my god, anything but that".

Affir brought her to Hassan's door, opened it and gestured for her to go inside, and then closed it behind her. Something she certainly hadn't expected. Didn't bondsman follow their charge like a shadow? A growth on their hip?

"Ah, there you are, come in. Have a seat."

Another thing she didn't expect. Not just being offered a seat, but to see her owner dressed in such a casual fashion. He had put away the formal robes and silken finery for a simple crimson wrap that was tied around his waist and went just passed his knees. Otherwise he wore nothing, his finely muscled torso bare, revealing the family crest tattooed across his chest. The way his skin caught the light from the towering bay window was strangely captivating.

This was Hassan's personal chamber, and his wife was nowhere to be seen. Something that Vanille found odd. The vampire noticed her curiosity and grinned.

"With my wife being so fragile," he explained, "we don't share a bed for the time being. For her own sake, you see."

Okay, she could believe that Her eyes dwelled on the large, four post bed for a brief moment.

"Please, sit down." he said again, his hand gesturing towards an empty seat near his own next to what looked to be his desk. It was neatly kept, but the stacks of papers were tall. He had to be terribly busy.

Finally she did as he asked and sat down, her knees tightening together and her hands becoming fists in her lap.

"Would you like some wine? This particular vintage is my personal favorite." he offered, reaching for the bottle atop his desk before she could answer.

"N-no thank you, master." she could almost feel herself starting to shake. Nothing had happened yet, but she was waiting for it.

"Well, suit yourself." he poured a glass anyway, taking a sip for himself. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to come here."

"Affir said you wanted to speak to me."

"And I do." he set the glass down, lounging back in his cushy chair and letting one leg rest across the other. "I want to begin by telling you how grateful I am for what you did. I don't know if you can imagine how much Kasa and the baby mean to me. They are my life."

She could imagine, she had family after all. They were priceless, irreplaceable.

"If you don't mind my saying, you have more than paid for yourself just with your actions today. I would be more than happy to release you from service right this minute."

Vanille took a breath, her eyebrows lifting to show a glimmer of hope.

"However, I still have need of you here." he sounded genuinely regretful of that fact. "Still, you have done me a great kindness, and saved this entire household from incredible grief. I like to reward those like you. So I want to make you an offer,"

Her brow flattened and then knitted at the middle.

"If you work well for me, without incident, until thirty days after my child is born, I will set you free." and he smiled, somehow knowing that the offer was generous, one she was not likely to turn down.

She didn't know what to say, couldn't find herself able to say anything.

He took another sip of wine. "It will be completely legal, binding once you sign the necessary papers. No strings attached, and you can ask any of the other servants in the house, I am a man of my word."

Still she couldn't find any words, feeling like she was suffering from "too good to be true" syndrome. When she realized he was serious, honest about his offer, she nodded her head slowly.

"So that sounds fair to you?"

"Y-yes, it does."

"Good, fantastic," Hassan appeared very pleased, finishing his glass of wine before standing up. He stretched, arms over his head and all his tightly corded muscles swelling. Were this under different circumstances, Vanille would probably find him very handsome. "Come, walk with me a while." and he offered his large, clawed hand.

Would the surprises never cease? She had to wonder, finding her owner more strange by the minute. Still, she took his hand after a moment, suddenly feeling obligated to indulge him. He pulled her to stand and follow him as he walked out onto the spacious balcony beyond the invisible barrier of the bay window's archway. He walked all the way to the stone banister, both hands on it as he looked over his property and on to the city.

Vanille came to stand beside him, curious of the view as well as assuming that is what he wanted. She thought her assumption rather solid when he smiled at her. The two of them stood there for a spell, silent.

"What do you think of our city? I know you have yet to see much of it,"

"It's fine...I suppose. Different." she answered cautiously.

"Nothing like where you come from?" he was showing honest interest. "I would venture to guess, that is."

"Not really, no." she shook her head.

"Tell me what your home is like. I'd love to know." Hassan smiled at her again. "I used to travel a lot, you see. It was a bit of a hobby before I became Bloodchief."

Again, she said mentally, strange. She described Oerba to him, the Oerba she knew before it was covered in crystal dust. He seemed captivated, fully immersed in every word, another thing she found odd about him.

"It sounds like you miss Oerba very much." He said when she had finished.

"I do."

"You know, I had a feeling you weren't from around here the moment I looked at you. Just...everything about you is," the tip of one claw hooked onto a curl of her hair, holding it, "exotic. It was one of the reasons why I thought to buy you."

Vanille turned her head, the hair slipping from his fingers, but his hands lingering near her face for a few seconds longer. She felt the blossoming warmth of nervousness in her stomach, not liking the too interested look in his fiery, slitted eyes.

"Although that wasn't all." he continued. "It was clear that Miriam wasn't taking proper care of you."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"Considering what you have done for me, you are quite welcome." his grin was wide and toothy. "I suppose I've made a new hobby for myself in purchasing servants out of bad situations."

By the tone of his voice you would think he was rescuing abused animals. Then again, to most vampires, humans weren't much better than that to begin with.

"It's worth it, though. I have certainly gained from it, as well as the rest of my house. The humans here are happy to work for me. Are you?" he turned towards her, his expression showing a sort of reserved hope.

"S-so far, yes."

"I know it hasn't been very easy," he laughed a little, seeming relieved by her answer. "Especially after today. You weren't hurt, were you?"

She shook her head. "Nothing terrible, no."

"That's good."

The back of his hand touched her cheek in a rare show of affection, his skin cool and soft around the knuckles. Her eyes fixed on him, watched his expression soften and the lids of his eyes lower. A tightness was twisting in the middle of her chest, her nerves starting to fray almost immediately. Somehow this didn't feel right.

"You really are a pretty little thing." Hassan's tone had down shifted into a sort of growl.

Her toes curled, her fingers tightening into fists once again. She felt the need to breath faster.

"Don't be afraid. Hadn't Miriam bitten you before?"

Oh, so _that's_ what he was getting all googly-eyed about. Sure, that didn't make it any less frightening, but at least she'd been through that once already.

"Y-yes, a few times." and she presented her wrist to him.

"I see," he inspected it for a brief moment. "Although I prefer to take it from elsewhere."

Vanille swallowed and saw his eyes widen, the slits narrowing as he watched the motion of her throat.

"I find it warmer...richer when take from a place closer to the heart." he took a small step forward, coming within millimeters of standing on her toes. She looked up at him, feeling miniscule in his towering shadow. "It should only hurt for a moment, little one, I promise."

That didn't ease her fear at all, neither did the tips of his fangs flickering from behind his top lip when he spoke.

"Every other servant in my employ has gone through the same thing, so think about it as...joining the family. If that helps."

It really didn't.

Hassan gently pushed her hair aside, exposing one side of her throat. Part of him didn't like how she looked at him, a panic-stricken little girl that begged with the despairing look in her eyes for him to stop, but the other part of him found a natural high in it. As civil as he was, he was still, by nature, a predator. A hunter. A vampire. The shimmer of fear in those green eyes only served to spur his hunger. One of his powerful arms circled her shoulders, tightening to hold her, and the other hand pulled her head against the opposite shoulder as he bent down, his mouth open.

Vanille felt a hard pinch, the pain cresting for an abrupt second as his fangs pierced her skin. A small squeak worked its way out of her, his embrace tightening as her entire body seized. Just like before she could feel her consciousness waver, her eyes growing heavy with every mouthful he drew from the new wounds. Her knees were threatening to give, and when they finally did, Hassan held her to him so she would not fall. She went completely limp.

All she would remember was the glimmer of the moon, the feeling of the damp air on her heated skin, and the smell of him as she drifted out of awareness. Sandalwood, sweat, and his favored vintage.

_(II)_

Winter had yet two more weeks left, and it was already starting to feel warm on the steppe. It hadn't snowed in a long while, at least a month, and the ravine and canyon walls were dripping with the chilly runoff from the mountain passes. Small insects were coming back to the valley, moths and grasshoppers among the first to appear. The sun was no longer hidden behind dense winter clouds and the days had become steadily longer.

Teh'Han was working outside today, finding the weather fair enough to do so. It was time to ready the garden, and with Gurthang's help he had hitched himself up to a crude sort of plow, a mess of wood, leather, and stone that he pulled with his faithful hound keeping it steady. One would think he would use it the other way around, wouldn't you? Not quite. The ground in the steppe was tough to work, too tough to risk hurting the dog. Thankfully he was nearly finished, having been at it since just before sunrise. Just a few more rows and he could take a break, get this thing off his back.

He honestly hadn't expected to be doing this today, though in the back of his mind he was planning on it. Fang was supposed to be here this morning to speak with him. The two were to discuss who would be going along on their trip north, who would look after his farm while they were away. She had promised to be here come morning, and now it was nearly noon. Had something gone wrong? Had she simply forgotten about him? Not to say that was a hard thing to do. Perhaps, he entertained, he would go to the settlement once he was through here.

Once the plowing was done he went down into the cellar for the burlap sack full of reeking compost. He'd been at it since last year and it was ready to be put to use. It was an easy thing to do. All he did was set the bag down near the freshly tilled ground with the top open, whistled, and Gurthang came to topple the bag over and spread the compost with a typical digging motion. It was perfect, practical, and not nearly as straining on his knees as plowing. Now he just needed to wait. Soon the ground would be warm and fertile after the first spring rain, and that, if he wanted to eat, would come soon. Afterwards he returned the plow to its place behind the house and then went inside to wash up before starting out for the settlement.

Even from a distance the colony didn't seem as busy as he typically expected. Did everyone decide to just stay inside today? Teh'Han looked about curiously, as did Gurthang, and didn't see a single soul. So he looked down at the dog, who looked back at him with an equal amount of bewilderment, red and yellow eyes blinking. Then his master thought, and after a short moment, gestured with his hand. It was a motion that Gurthang understood as "seek", which made him put his nose to the ground and sniff madly until he found what he was looking for. Then off he went barking towards the Resource Center.

Teh'Han was surprised once more when he didn't find Bradley at his desk as usual, but there was definitely someone here, he could hear them talking. Gurthang was several steps ahead of him, prancing down the hallway at a steady trot to see what was going on. Whatever it was, he clearly wanted to put his nose in it. I think that's a dog thing, honestly.

Around the corner and advancing was Bradley, head down and hand scribbling across his usual pal clipboard. He would've continued on his way had the dog not started circling his legs, forcing him to pay attention to something else.

"Hey there big fella," he greeted with a smile then lifted his eyes. "Shepherd, long time no see. What can I do for you? Looking for someone?"

He nodded. "Fang."

"Oh yeah, she's just down that way," Bradley pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Everything okay?"

He nodded again and went on his way, allowing the clerk to continue on his. Voices were coming from the open infirmary door as he rounded the next bend, leading him to assume that this is where Bradley had meant for him to go. Gurthang went right in, whereas his master only poked his head through the opening. Everyone was gathered around one of the beds. Whoever was occupying it couldn't have been in much distress considering how happy everyone appeared to be. Fang, Lightning, Hope, and even Sazh were there, and Snow had somehow squashed himself into the bed beside an exhausted Serah. Sweat still glistened across her face, but she seemed content.

"She looks just like her daddy," Fang said.

"Poor kid." Lightning smirked.

"Come on, don't say that," Hope countered. "She's cute."

"She's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen," Snow was beside himself, his eyes reddened with tears and a proud smile having become stuck on his face for the last few hours. Surely his face must hurt by now. "I'm gonna have to fight off all the boys with a stick."

"That never stopped _you_." Lightning lifted an eyebrow.

"That's because you didn't use a stick." her brother-in-law elaborated. "And I'm really good at dodging bullets."

"My aim has improved."

Gurthang padded across the floor, squeezing his way between two sets of legs and putting his front paws on the edge of the bed to lift himself up. He sniffed the blanket and the air while the humans watched him, balking when he took the liberty of climbing onto the bed. Snow swatted at him, failing to dissuade the dog from his curiosity. He absolutely had to know what was making those strange noises, the squeaking and the cooing. Serah didn't feel threatened by the large animal, but still kept a very close eye on him.

Gurthang spotted the newborn and stared at her for a moment. The baby stared back, bright blue eyes wide open with an expression of novelty. The dog put his nose to the blankets wrapping the child and sniffed up and down. The baby reached out and grabbed the dog's nostrils, the animal going stock still, and when she let go with a shrill giggle she grabbed hold of the tufts of white hair on his chin, pulling.

"Pup just wanted to have look, no worries." Fang crossed her arms, smiling knowingly, and then turned her head to see Teh'Han still standing in the doorway. She gestured for him to come over, surprised when he actually did. She stepped away from the bed to meet him halfway. "Sorry about standing you up this morning." she apologized just above a whisper.

Teh'Han extended his hand to greet her in the customary way, and then asked in Pulsian what was going on.

"I would've been there, but the little one decided to come along in the middle of the night. Three weeks early too." she watched the expression on his face shift to concern and immediately continued with, "She's fine. Perfectly healthy according to the doctors. Why not come and say hello?"

His heart twisted a little, making him consider saying no right off. Him and children just didn't...it wasn't a good combination. Still, it was a bit rude to deny an invitation to visit a newborn baby, and he didn't want to offend anyone. His steps were heavy but steady, and before he realized it, he could see the child. Feathery tufts of platinum hair curled across her tender head. She looked back at him with as much wonder as she had Gurthang, chewing on her own fist and not blinking. Emotion welled up in him like it hadn't in a long, long while. He started speaking without even meaning to.

"What did he say?" Lightning sounded very defensive, like she was expecting for all that to be some form of insult.

"Easy as she goes, iron maiden." Fang mediated from the foot of the bed. "He said 'a man should feel blessed for being able to give his wife a daughter, doubly so for one so beautiful." and she was perhaps the only one in the room that noted the hint of pain in Teh'Han's tone.

"And I do." Snow kissed Serah's cheek, and then looked back to the baby who smiled at him. With the dog now off the bed she was paying more attention to her father. "My Lora."

Sazh nodded slowly. "That's a good name. Fits somehow."

Everyone seemed to be in agreement on that, even Teh'Han who ever so covertly nodded. One short drift of his chin up and down. Fang turned towards him, stepping up to him to get his attention.

"It's a bit crowded in here, let's go talk outside, yeah?"

Without any real answer he turned, starting back towards the door with Gurthang following them both out into the hallway. Their pace was unhurried, casual as they walked.

"Sorry again about this morning."

"I understand. I would've done the same." he accepted. "You have a large family." and he almost smiled.

"Well, yeah, you could say that. We were all L'Cie at one time."

"I see." and then his tone changed. "So, any ideas since we last spoke? I feel it best to go with you, but I'm not going to leave the farm unattended."

"No, no, I understand completely." Fang crossed her arms, nodding her head in sharp motions. "I know I'd feel safer if you were with us, to be sure. Still...who do you trust most?"

That was a hard question to answer. Very hard. He hardly knew anyone here enough to trust them with anything, in spite of his years living in the area.

"Snow offered," she continued after a moment, "but I wouldn't put too much weight behind that now that the baby is here."

Teh'Han made a face showing a great deal of surprise, almost stopped mid-stride. A complete stranger was willing to help him? Something about that just seemed unnatural. Could Teh'Han even trust him? He appeared like a decent man, but...

"Bradley. I trust him."

"It's a start, but you can't expect him to do it by himself. Poor fella's too damn busy. Maybe they could work in shifts, that would give Snow plenty of time to be with the baby."

He nodded. "Sounds reasonable, although I want to speak to them first."

"Naturally. Should I come along?" she knew he wasn't very open with his English, and figured he would want her to act as a translator.

"No. I suppose...it would be a sign of good faith to do it myself." if he showed enough trust to do that, maybe he would be rewarded with the same courtesy. "I appreciate the thought, though."

"Sure." Fang paused a moment, not wanting to trip on Gurthang as he pressed around her legs to get in front, wanting to be the first to get wherever they might have been heading. "You know," she began after a moment, waiting until the two of them were out of the center entirely. "I'm sure it's none of my business, but,"

Teh'Han slide his eyes to settle on her, curious of her upcoming comment.

"It looked like you were getting a bit misty eyed in there."

He felt his brow tighten. So she had noticed? "It's nothing important." Nothing she needed to know about. "Guess I just...kind of wish it was me."

"What's stoppin' you?" one thin eyebrow lifted in curiosity. It was her understanding that fatherhood wasn't all that difficult a thing to gain.

"Bad luck." he shook his head, putting it in simple terms out of necessity.

"That again? Just how unlucky are you?" her tone was somewhat joking, although the question was more than valid.

"Unlucky enough." his voice had hardened, grew rough around the edges to reveal his irritation. He didn't want to discuss it anymore, and Fang must have felt it. Or maybe it was the way he suddenly hunched his shoulders and dipped his head that gave it away. In either case, she thought it best to shy away from that, to talk about something else.

"How long will it take us to get there...wherever it is we're going?"

His countenance had softened, his neck straightening. "Perhaps...six...seven days...five if we only stop to sleep."

"That's a stretch," she shrugged a little, sounding almost overwhelmed by the idea. But that wasn't the case. No distance was too far if it meant finding Vanille. "You still remember the way?"

He nodded. True, he had only traveled that path once in his life, but it was clear enough to have happened yesterday. And the difficulty in the journey wouldn't be the direction, oh no, that was the least of their worries to be sure.

"Would you prefer it if I drew up a map?"

"Nah," Fang smirked and made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "I trust you." not that she had much choice, but the wasn't the foundation of it all. Teh'Han was a good man, she could sense it. He wasn't one for bullshit.

Teh'Han looked at her, turning his head, dwelling on her a moment with a scrutinizing gaze. "You really believe you will find her, don't you?"

Fang processed the question slowly, eyes lowered, brow knitted, hugging herself as if suddenly losing a little of her confidence. "I've got to. If I don't...I've got nothing left."

"And if we never do?"

God, she had asked herself that a dozen times, over and over every night as she fought to sleep. And every time it terrified her, sent a tight, dry twist through her chest that made her feel like she was dying. "Then I'll die trying. It was my dad's last wish that we look after each other, and I intend to honor it. I don't care what it takes."

And she thought back to that day, the last time she saw her father. He laid in bed as comfortable as a dying man could be, hair whitened and his body frail with old age. Still he seemed content.

_"Stick together,"_ he had said, his voice a raspy remnant of what it had been. _"It's just you two now. Always love and protect one another as I did for you. Yeah?"_

"He sounds a like a good man, your father."

"The best."

Teh'Han wished he had been so fortunate.

_(III)_

Dash stood there, staring at what lay on the bed, his fist near his gaping mouth, horrified. "Wha...what...w-what have you done?"

"I've found our niche." Helm was far too calm for his sire's liking. In fact he seemed rather proud. "We can make a fortune in no time."

"We can also get ourselves _hanged_!" Dash hissed. He twisted away, squeezing his temples with his eyes shut, hoping that when he opened them again the damned thing would be gone. No such luck.

It was a very fine, golden vase with accents of precious and semi-precious stones decorating it. Helm had stolen it from the conservatory during the party, snatching the item right off of its pedestal without notice.

"You need to give it back before we're caught." Dash demanded.

"The hell I will." Helm crossed his arms, stubborn. "I'm going to let it sit a while and then sell it."

"No-no-no-no-_no_!" he protested.

"Oh yes-yes-yes," such a clever retort. "Think about it, Dash, this could net us more than mining for three months would ever get us. And it's ten times easier."

"But it's illegal! What about that are you failing to acknowledge?"

"I hear you," Helm grumbled. "But are you hearing me? If this works out, we won't have to work ever again! Isn't that what we want?"

"If this works out, we'll only get ten years instead of the full fifty! And of course I don't want to have to work again, but I don't want to spend my golden years in shackles!"

Helm rolled his eyes. "You won't! I can do this, and Ill prove it to you."

Dash's eyes widened, two slitted moons that pierced Helm with a dare and disbelief. "And how in the hell do you intend to do that?"

"Take some money from the vault, and stay at the inn down the street for three days. If you come back and I'm not here, you win. I'll serve my time and be done with it."

"And if you are?"

"Then I win and you have to do _one _job with me."

"By the saints," Dash squeezed his temples again, feeling absolutely furious and stupid at the same time. "Fine...just fine, I'll do it. You won't implicate me if you get caught, will you?"

"Would I do that to you?" his brows were high on his head, his arms out in vulnerability, ready for his answer. When he took too long, he withdrew. "Never mind, don't answer that."

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

"I won't disappoint you." Helm sounded suddenly confident, maybe even smug.

"We'll see."

_(-)_

Donovan strode steadily back to his office, returning from his usual afternoon checkup on the lady of the house. She was healthy still, something he and Hassan found deep relief in. Both of them were concerned for her and the baby after yesterday's incident, so much so that the master returned home early from his session at the citadel to be with her. And while this was not uncommon, he actually had a valid reason to do so on this occasion.

He was puzzled to find his office not as empty as he left it perhaps half an hour ago. Someone was sitting on the cushioned table.

"What a pleasant surprise," he smiled as he shut the door. But then it fell flat. "Deary, what's the matter?"

Vanille sat there, her entire body tight, shrinking with what looked clearly like fear. He could see she was shaking, her green eyes wild. She chewed almost neurotically on the knuckle of one finger, blood smeared on her mouth and hand, and the other palm was pressed unyielding against her throat.

With his face tightened with worry he fished around in a drawer at his desk, finding a roll of gauze and his small scissors. "Come now, dear, let's not do that," and he gently reached to pull her hand away.

She didn't resist him, her hand trembling as he held it, carefully inspecting the reopened wound. By the look on his face he appeared to know that she had been doing this for a while. He set the gauze and scissors down beside her while he reached in his pocket, pulling out a tiny bottle of what had to be some sort of antiseptic. It certainly smelled like it as he smeared some of the black goop on her knuckle. Then he gently started to wrap it.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, sounding very concerned.

Vanille licked her lips, tasting copper as she thought of how to answer. She was horrified and unable to fully process, much less explain, the reason why. How do you say it?

"You can tell me," he assured her, "you know I'll listen. And it'll be just between us."

That didn't make much difference.

She still hadn't said a word as he finished with her hand, putting his tools and things back in their respective drawers. It was troubling to see her appearing to be nigh on catatonic, almost heartbreaking. No one deserves to be so frightened.

"What's that on your neck, deary? Let me see,"

At first she wouldn't let him move her hand, she was far too tense. When her muscles finally did let go, her face tightened with a shameful grimace. She heard Donovan sigh at the sight of the reddened puncture wounds on her neck and felt like disappearing.

"Is this all, deary? It's nothing to get so upset about, is it?" he had a feeling it wasn't, but he still asked all the same. "Does it hurt? ...You're going to have to tell me what's bothering you if want me to help."

"N-no, no, it doesn't hurt." she forced out, her voice unstable as she insisted on staring at the floor. It itched, it burned, but it didn't really hurt.

Donovan crossed his arms, bending to try and look her in the eyes. "Then what is it?"

She put her hands in her lap as if to steady herself, clutching at the hem of the wrap with vice-like temerity. There was an overwhelming sense that her skin just didn't fit like it was supposed to, as well as a notion to rip it right off and be done with it.

"I...I-uh," where did the words go? "The master called me to his room last night. Of course I went,"

"Of course." he nodded.

"W-we talked for a while and...and," she started rubbing at the bite mark, "and I don't remember much of anything after that." when she tried to recall it, all she could find were flashes and fluttering mental figments of her master's face.

"Well," he attempted, "it's not all that unheard of for some to forget after being fed on."

"I know, I know," Vanille almost started on her knuckle again, but recoiled before gauze touched her lip. "But...when I woke up...I was still there, in his bed." and when the doctor didn't find anything odd in the statement, she finished with, "Naked."

She had woke to find her clothes in piles on the marble floor of Hassan's personal chamber, the Bloodchief nowhere to be seen, and twisted up in the fine satin sheets of his bed. And sore, tender in places she would sooner not talk about with anyone, not even a doctor.

Donovan's brow sank, giving him the expression of knowing regret, unsurprised. He reached back and grabbed the chair at his desk, dragging it across the floor so he might sit in front of her. Scratching his head, he searched for the words. He took her hands in his, doing his best to seem supportive.

"This is going to be hard to explain...just be patient with me." he began with a sigh. "Chances are very good that what you think happened really happened, and I'm sure that's frightening for you. Don't think too badly of the master, he never means any malice by it."

She gawked at him.

"I know you must think that ridiculous, and I'd be willing to agree. But..." this sounded a lot better, much more together in his head. "Well...you could look at this way; after all is said and done, by law we are our master's property. He has the right to use us as he sees fit. It's just a generally accepted fact. I know it's difficult but...he's just exercising his rights. It's...it's a lot like my previous owner used to say; 'I master, you slave.'" and Donovan shook his head, letting go of her hands and easing back against the chair.

He was being supremely unhelpful, in spite of his best efforts. All of this wasn't even serving to make her feel better.

"And if it's of any comfort to you, I don't believe humans are able to carry a vampire's offspring. It's never been noted to have happened, and that certainly hasn't been for lack of opportunity." he'd heard plenty of gossip over his lifetime, made many house visit to nobles and commoners alike that were curiously hinting at such a thing.

She continued to stare at him, shocked at everything he said. By his tone you would think this sort of thing happened often, but that didn't make it any less disturbing. Vanille had been raped, let's not pretend it didn't happen; how was anything supposed to be comforting? Gods be merciful, where was there any consolation? What could possibly soothe the disgust and shame that came with that truth?

"What am I going to do?" she felt tears starting to burn in her eyes.

"He hasn't done you any harm, has he?"

She couldn't remember if he had, so she shook her head thinking it the most honest answer.

"Then I would suggest you take it in stride, as hard as that might be. There's little else to be done about it. I'm sure he'll leave you be after the child comes, afterwards I fail to see a reason why he wouldn't."

A fresh streak of terror shot up her back. "What's Kasa going to say?" She was going to get it now, she was certain. If vampires were as keen to humans as she thought, she was right screwed...okay, maybe _screwed_ isn't the most appropriate word to use. Boned? Oh no, not that one either. Doomed; yes, let's go with that.

"I'm sure she knows about it by now."

Vanille paled, her mouth hanging ajar in absolute horror.

"Don't worry, deary," he assured her, "this sort of thing...the master has done it before and she's never been irate over it."

But...wasn't Hassan committing adultery? Was marriage not sacred here? Vanille couldn't wrap her head around it, it was just too much to swallow. Her head sank along with her shoulders, and she pressed her palms to her heated face. The tears came and she wasn't going to stop them.

Donovan stood up, the chair being pushed back a little as he straightened. He took a quiet half-step forward and eased his arms around her tensing shoulders, a gentle tug pulling her against his chest. This wasn't the first time the new girl had cried in his arms, but it never got easier. It was never easy for him to see anyone in pain. Her quiet sobs shook him.

"I know it's hard, deary. I know." he said softly. There was nothing else he could do. "But it's not forever, I'm sure."

Yes, not forever, but that baby couldn't be born fast enough to suit her. Even if the little thing came tumbling out of the womb right this second it wouldn't suit her.

"Now, let's calm down," he pushed on her shoulders so she would sit up straight, "dry those tears. Crying never solved much. How about we go to the dining hall and have some tea? I think it'll help."

"I suppose," she sniffed, drawing the back of her hand over her cheek. She slid down from the table, following him, hoping he was right. Although she was convinced no amount of any liquid in any fashion could ever wash away the overwhelming sensation of filth all over her.

Author's Note: Okay, this one was a bit lame, sorry about that. Some filler was in order, I suppose. Okay, just for a heads up, things are going to start getting a bit nasty; like I mentioned in the description, there are going to be elements of abuse ahead. Perhaps not so much in action as in words. Or maybe equal shares of both, we'll just have to see. Still, just so you know, it's coming, so if you don't like it, you can skip it. Also, the next chapter may not come out until AFTER AWA, so that means after the first of October. If you're going to AWA, you can check out my cosplay roster on my deviantart page and look out for me!


	16. Chapter XV

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Fifteen**

It was, officially, the first day of Spring, though the snows of winter all over this side of Pulse had since melted a week ago. It was a beautiful day, the sun warm and the winds quiet all across the steppe.

Teh'Han stood outside of his house, looking around without any real purpose, just wanting to see the rich life that had come back to the area. So much lush color now that winter had taken its dreary self far away. He could hear birds, the buzz of bees passing between the multitudes of blossoms. The chocobos in the stables where chiming the season as well, as they would begin mating soon. it wouldn't be long before the sheep felt the instinctual urge to do the same. The trees in his meager orchards were already beginning to bud. Soon the tiny bulbs would bloom and in no time they would start to become fruit. Nothing out of the garden just yet, though. It was a fine start so far, all things considered.

Gurthang followed his master to the stables where he sat and watched the human put a saddle on one of the younger chocobos. Too young to mate, but not to ride. He led the bird out, back towards the house, where he had a few things packed up in saddle bags and his traveling clothes folded up beside them. He prepared without rush, taking his sweet time in fastening the saddle bags onto the chocobo's back. Doubly so as he dressed.

He put his sandals on first, tying the straps up nearly to his knees, Gurthang still watching with his head between his paws as his master sat in the grass beside him. The dog was waiting, knowing the human would need his help any minute now. What he picked up next was a peculiar article, something that looked to be made from leather straps and a metal mixing bowl. One of the first things he made for himself, something to protect his empty shoulder. A rounded metal plate that was padded on the inside and held fast by a belt that cinched tight beneath his other arm.

Then he reached for another piece of armor, a sleeve of hard steel ring mail and soft leather that covered his right shoulder and went all the way down to open into a fingerless glove. Gurthang jumped to his feet, grabbing the shoulder end of the sleeve in his teeth to pull it up his arm. This, too, was held in place by a thick leather strap that Gurthang needed to tighten for him. The rings chimed together as it settled into place, his fingers emerging from the holes at the other end and flexing. There was an attachment for this, a gauntlet for his hand, but that could wait.

With that secure, he grabbed the long stretch of dark brown fabric that still lay folded beside him, standing up to begin wrapping it about himself. Gurthang stayed close, eager to do his part. Teh'Han threw one end of it over his right shoulder, Gurthang putting his front paws against the small of his master's back while he gripped it with his front teeth. All the while Teh'Han tucked and twisted the garment around him until it would stay just so, long enough to grab his belt and fasten it around him to keep the makeshift sari in place.

Just a few more things and he would be ready to go.

His belt was a broad band of thick, sturdy leather that showed its creases from being worn for a long while. There were small loops on the left side that were fine keepers of a collection of small knifes, half a dozen of them that were ideal for throwing in a last ditch effort to dissuade an assailant. On the other side was the holster for his largest hatchet, where it rested now freshly sharpened. Lastly he picked up the attachment for his sleeve, a heavy gauntlet of solid iron, jointed in the wrist and fingers, and talons on the end of each digit. The hinges screeched from age as he curled his fingers.

He looked down at Gurthang, his ever faithful companion panting with his tongue hanging, and pat his head.

"You stay here." he said, knowing the dog wouldn't like it, but would obey. And he didn't like it. He whined and whimpered, nuzzling his master's leg when he stood. Teh'Han wanted him to come, but not when the farm was in the hands of two men who probably didn't know diddly squat about running a farm. Teh'Han had given them the best instruction he could, but still had very little confidence in them. But Gurthang would help, and watch the animals much more closely. Sometimes, no matter how much you know, all you need is good dog to get the job done.

In the end Gurthang simply slumped onto his stomach with a huff, hating that he couldn't follow his human.

With a heavy shrug, almost as heavy as his dog's, he began to lead the chocobo out of the pasture and down into the steppe, mindful of any creatures that were roaming about. The wild Megistotherian were sure to be back in the valley by now, and their sizable packs with them. Not to mention the imps and the behemoth as well. All the more reason to hurry then, he supposed.

Fang was anxious, almost fidgety. She'd been ready to head out since before sunup, eager to get a move on after nearly two months of waiting. She paced outside the chocobo stables, arms crossed, feet kicking idly at rocks hidden in the grass. Hope watched her, eyes sliding back and forth to track her movement, some odd mixture of curiosity and boredom keeping his attention on her. Otherwise all he had to do was stand there, biting at the tip of his gloved finger. The gloves kept him from slicing open his palms with the razor rings that hung secure under his arms in their holsters and over the black t-shirt he had tucked into the gray utility pants he wore. A tan suede coat was knotted at his waist.

The two of them were simply waiting with chocobos ready. Once Shepherd arrived they would be able to leave.

Lightning was still in the Resource Center talking with Bradley. He had some sort of "state-of-the-art" gizmo thing that he was trying to convince her to take along. It was a tiny gadget that looked something like a remote with a porcelain white exterior and a little green light at the top that was currently not lit.

"It's still in beta, yeah, but it's the perfect opportunity for a field test."

"And what is it supposed to do, exactly?"

"Think of it as a cellular tower, just more portable. You see, ours here might be good for a fifteen mile radius, twenty five if the planets are aligned," he laughed a bit and adjusted his glasses. "But with this, we should be able to double, if not triple that distance. Besides, it'll help you get in touch with me if there's an emergency."

Light huffed, "What emergency?"

"You never know," he began, "fall in a hole and break your leg in the middle of nowhere...backwater natives with banjos that think you have a pretty mouth,"

"Shut up."

"Hey, can't blame a guy for being concerned. Anyway, just take it. It doesn't take up much space and it isn't fragile." he tossed it between his hands, shaking it. "If worse comes to worse you can beat someone with it."

"There's an idea," she took it from him, nodding as she shoved it into one of her numerous pockets. "Now, how would I go about setting this thing up?"

"Just try to secure it to as high a structure as you can find, and flip the little switch on the bottom. Once the light starts blinking, that means the signals are linking like they should. That's it."

"Sounds simple enough. Thanks, Bradley."

"You bet." he nodded, pleased. "You take care of yourself out there, Farron. Try and come back in one piece."

"I make no promises." she replied with a knowing smirk and then went on her way. She had already said farewell to Serah and Snow and tolerated their many wishes of good luck and safe return. For a soldier like herself it was almost a ritual now, but a tedious one. She had never been a big fan of goodbyes.

Light blinked as she stepped outside, the sun seemingly shinning right into her eyes. With her hand serving as an impromptu visor, she made her way to the stables were they others were surely waiting by now. And, naturally, she was right. The shepherd was there as well, striking her as a bit surprising for an unknown reason. Maybe she hadn't expected him to actually show up, or maybe it was how well armed he appeared to be that tickled her curiosity.

"Everything taken care of?" Hope lifted his head, straightening.

"Yeah, let's get moving." was Light's simple reply.

"_Finally_," Fang exalted, practically leaping onto a chocobo's back. Once she was steady in saddle she gave the bird a firm kick and off it scrambled. Shepherd followed suit in a matter of seconds, leaving Light and Hope at the stable.

"Feels like old times, doesn't it?" Hope smirked a little, squirming a bit as he sat astride the animal.

"I guess." Yes. Old times, far too much like old times.

And on they went, the chocobo's wailing in the haunting way they do, their legs a blur of motion as they dashed across the steps.

The four of them rode hard, steady through the passes and ravines along the road to Oerba, which only seemed to get that much longer as they went.

Passing through Mah'habara was perhaps their first big setback, as they realized halfway through that Atomos was no longer present in the large caver network to take them from one place to the other. They would have to traverse the maddening maze of tunnels on foot, praying they made the right turns. All the while the mechanical and gelatinous fiends that were typical for this area wondered about, lurching and slinking through the shadows as if laying wait. The Ambling Bellows was the only creature with the guts, or lack thereof, to cause them any trouble. Needless to say that was a grave mistake on the machine's part.

By the time they made it through to the other side it was late in the afternoon, the sky blazing bright orange with traces of blood from the encroaching evening. The first sign of light made Fang cringe, seemingly displeased with how much time they had lost navigating the caverns. Night would be here soon, too soon, forcing them to stop. Still, there was perhaps a handful of hours left before then, and so they pressed forward.

The sun had nearly set as they came to Sulyaa Springs, the first family of stars now visible in the sky.

"We should stop here." Lightning said from near the back of their little party, her mount coming to a sudden halt.

"_Teh_," Shepherd answered immediately, shaking his head, his chocobo still moving along. He said something else, something she missed as he was too far ahead.

"What?"

"He said no," Fang stopped the chocobo for a brief moment, turning the bird halfway around. "It isn't safe here at night."

"Why? Some superstition I need to know about?" her sarcasm was biting. Maybe she didn't like the idea of someone telling her no.

"I don't think so. Look at that," and Fang pointed towards the water, where it was still away from the feet of the many small falls. Lightning was just able to see it before it disappeared, slithering around the rocks. It had to have been at least ten feet long, not telling how wide, with one bulbous, glowing eye that looked like a small moon in what she could only imagine was its head.

Light felt herself tense. "What that hell is that?"

"Dunno," Fang turned the chocobo forward, the bird beginning to walk on. "Don't want to find out either."

Shepherd had been listening, heard the two women talking and rolled his eyes. Heavens above, these folks from Cocoon were damn stupid. He thought it amazing that Mother Pulse had allowed them to live so long. Perhaps it had been a good thing that he came after all, as he was sure they wouldn't make it on their own.

It became much too dark as the group emerged from a rocky, upward winding passage, out onto a perilous stretch of a stone path that led to the Palisades of Taejin's Tower. It was quiet save for a breath of wind that passed over them in a lazy way, a slight chill in it. The beasts that inhabited the area had retreated for the night with the exception of a populous of tiny, whistling lizards that squirmed around in search of insects. It sounded like birds until a chocobo stepped on one, then there was a loud _pop_ and nothing else for several minutes. Hope flinched, his bird having done it, and his shoulders hiked up next to his ears and his lips peeled back with a hard cringe. No one else seemed to notice his mild distress, so he shrugged it of as well, given some effort that is.

The party finally dismounted, the chocobos bedding down in a close circle once free of their saddles. Teh'Han set his saddlebags down beside him as he sat on the hard, stone littered ground, his back against a large lump of rock. With the shake of his hand the steel glove came loose, dropping into his lap. He then fished through the leather bag, watching in passing as the others found their bedrolls and unfurled them. After a moment he found his pipe and tobacco pouch, going through the motions that would lead to his having a relaxing puff or two. The glowing embers was the only light as there was nothing suitable to start a decent fire.

His first drag was slow and deep, white rings of smoke coming out of his opened mouth in steady succession as he exhaled. His back flattened against the large rock, his head tipped back as he looked up at the stars, picking up one constellation after another. He wasn't tired, maybe a little strained, but certainly not in want of sleep. He was more anxious.

Some tiny something, some little twitter in the back of Teh'Han's mind was gnawing at him. It whispered in a way one could almost miss, making him consider that their destination was just around to corner, though he knew damn well that it wasn't. Perhaps part of him longed to return, to see what had become of the land of his birth. But that part of him was miniscule, nigh on unnecessary as far as he cared. He knew what had become of it, though he had yet to see it for himself. It was a smear of ground that had never been home, that never wanted or welcomed him.

Teh'Han's teeth bit hard on his pipe, almost leaving marks. Bad memories were welling up right next to his aching heart, making his body tighten with a dry twist. Once he had done his best to shove it back, the cowardice decided to rear its ugly head, entertaining him with the idea of disappearing into the night and never looking back. Go back to the farm, to Gurthang, where he would be safe. Let them fend for themselves, all else be damned.

He sat like that for a long while, puffing his pipe, his brow heavy over his eyes and almost blending in with the other stones as he was perfectly still. Lizards had begun to whistle and scurry again, some stopping to look at him with curious, shimmering eyes before disappearing elsewhere. He fell asleep this way, legs crossed and shoulders hunched. Three hours later, on the dot, he woke again, only realizing it when he found that his pipe had gone cold. He lit it with another match, swearing quietly. Teh'Han fell back to sleep within the hour, waking once more after three hours had passed. It was a habit that had carried on for the last...decade or so.

Three hour shifts, that's how long they had been allowed to sleep in the mine. Just long enough to keep you from dropping dead, but never enough to get your strength back. Three precious, fleeting hours that always seemed too damn short. Then it would be back to shoveling mud and kicking up dust that choked the feeble life out of you. And for what? For the shimmering rocks that made some rich vampire go "ooh!".

Why he never eased into a more normal schedule after his escape was anyone's guess. No matter how tired he was, three hours at a time was all he could manage.

Teh'Han watched the night fade into early morning, just before dawn, and saw the many silhouettes of Amphisbaena perched along the higher bluffs, readying to begin hunting. He heard the chocobos becoming restless, knowing the large flying lizards were out there as well. It wouldn't be long before other creatures emerged from their dens, hungry. They would have to get moving soon. He tapped out his pipe and stuffed it back into the saddle bag, rearming himself as he stood.

It didn't take much for the others to rouse themselves from sleep, Hope especially as he found a host of those whistling lizards nesting under the tan coat he'd used as a blanket. At least ten of them had curled beneath it, sapping the warmth coming from his body as they lay in a mass. He freaked out, flailing his arms as he stood, shaking out his entire person until each of the creatures had gone. The look on his face as he looked at the others was priceless, like he was curious of what everyone was looking at. Like nothing had happened and that he had everything under control.

The difficulty came in getting the chocobos to follow them into Taejin's Tower. They didn't like the look of the ancient monument, the feel of it, so they were naturally hesitant to go inside. Although, when they heard the banshee-like cry of something flying overhead, the birds thought it a lesser evil to go with the crazy humans than remain out here.

Scaling the structure was not as time consuming as Teh'Han had figured. When he had come this way before, he had no knowledge of the lift and was forced to take the long way down. It was something he was actually quite glad to not have to do again going up. He didn't much care for the way the lift moved, how it made him feel a bit queasy, but it was a hell of a lot easier than climbing. They reached the top, to the place where the tower had split with the sun still only at a mid-morning position. What would've easily taken an entire day had only cost them a few minutes. Oerba wouldn't be far off now. If they hurried, they might even reach the foot of the mountains by sunset.

A second ride on another lift removed them completely from the tower's shadow, coming to stop atop a drift of crystal dust. Teh'Han was more than happy to get out of the thing, showing his long-standing distaste for machines in his hurry to be on solid ground. The chocobos seemed happier now as well. From there the party rode on, going straight through Oerba without pause. Fang felt a brief, nervous swell of desire to stop, to maybe see if there was anything left of the vampire she had left here, but it passed. Time was valuable, much more so than her morbid curiosity.

Teh'Han felt himself growing heavy, his shoulders sinking as they put the abandoned village behind them. For a long while he'd felt as though the mountains had been a shield. They kept him safe, hid him from fear and past pain. But now he'd left that security, now he had made himself vulnerable again. Bad memories were pressing back into his head and it made him scowl.

"Kind of exciting, isn't it?" Hope said, thinking someone was listening and would surely answer. "Seeing new places,"

"I suppose." Lightning was the closest to him, perhaps the only one who heard him.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing." it didn't sound like nothing. "I don't know,"

Hope waited, expecting her to elaborate, but not for long. "You don't trust him, do you?"

"How do you figure?" she smirked a little, knowing he couldn't see. He had her pegged and she wasn't about to let him know it.

"Just a feeling." he replied. "You just seem so tense when he's around."

"Hm." maybe he was right. "Yeah."

"Why not?" he gave his chocobo a gentle squeeze with his legs, encouraging it forward until he rode beside her. "I mean...he's helping us, right? Doesn't that count for something?"

Lightning felt her brow tighten in the middle when she didn't have an explanation, much less an answer.

"I know your trust isn't the easiest thing to earn, but...he's trying at least."

No he wasn't, Lightning mentally corrected. She didn't know why he was doing this, why he came along, but she was sure as shit that it wasn't to earn any ounce of her faith.

Then Hope's tone changed. "I guess none of us know him that well..."

"Exactly. And that's what bothers me." Hope had answered his own question.

"Well, haven't you tried talking to him?"

Not since he tossed her out into the snow, and she felt an eyebrow twitch in frustration at the recollection. "It's not easy to do since he doesn't want to talk to me either."

"You're just being stubborn." Hope took a chance.

Her eyebrow twitched again. "That's a hell of a thing for you to say."

"I call it as I see it." he shied away a bit, his chocobo idling away from hers. "You ever thought about apologizing to him? I mean, wasn't it _you_ who broke down _his_ door?"

"Christ, you're starting to sound like Fang." she rolled her eyes.

"Then she's right too." Hope grinned the slightest bit. "Would it honestly kill you?"

Maybe, maybe not. There were a lot of things that didn't seem to have the ability to bump her off, supposedly immortal Fal'Cie included. Could humility prove to be her kryptonite after all?

"Come on, Light,"

"Let me think about it."

Hope made a face, one twisted in knowing that she really wouldn't. Still, he'd done what he could and there wasn't much else to it. He knew Light had no intention of doing anything that didn't suit her.

Though winter was gone, some snow was still clinging to the higher peaks of the pass. Talking, as little of it there was, was further stilled to keep from any unnecessary disaster by way of avalanche. It was definitely possible, especially now that the thaw was on. The tension was there until the party began down the far slopes, down into the flat lands where little grass was growing as it settled into the marshes some miles further on. The chocobos didn't like how rocky and uneven the trail was, stalling suddenly with a grumbling squawk.

It was mid afternoon when they passed the roots of the mountains. It was noticeably warmer here, a breeze rushing through the valley from the north that gave them goosebumps. It was completely flat, for miles and miles in almost any direction it was like that. A few bare trees, some stones, a hill or two no more than an inch high, that was it. Those were actually ant hills, so I don't suppose that counts.

"How much further, do you think?" Fang could feel the quiet getting to her, feeling almost anxious. And she just needed to ask, needed to reassure herself that they had made some progress.

Teh'Han was slow to answer, his eyes sliding to the side to look at her, and then easing forward again. "A ways to go yet." he said quietly. "Not even half way there."

Fang felt her jaw tighten, frustrated.

"I told you, it's going to be a few days." he continued, noticing how her brow had knitted in the middle. "But we're making good time."

Somehow his words failed to pacify her.

Teh'Han sighed after a moment. "Never realize how vast Mother Pulse is until you need to get somewhere in a hurry."

"No kidding." Fang feigned a laugh. "Where are we, anyway?" Oddly enough she hadn't been to this area before, not that she could recall anyhow. As far as she knew, it was like Oerba's basement; she knew it was there, but had no idea what was in it.

"No name for it," he replied. "But up ahead are the marshes, some call it Cannibal Straights."

Her brow lifted, eyes set a little wide. "Should I ask why?"

"I'm sure you can figure it out." he almost cracked a smile.

"Well, you learn something new every day, don't you?" and she shook her head, a genuine laugh softly sneaking out.

"With any luck we won't have to worry about them. If we keep to a steady pace we'll be on the far side before it gets dark."

"I like the sound of that."

The mires of the Cannibal Straights simply reeked of decay and rot, and the heat of afternoon was not helping in the least. Mud holes and bogs littered the ground leaving only small knolls and sandbars as solid ground. Dead, desiccated trees stood withered and weeping, colorless waiting to fall over were it not for the mud holding them up. Fetid water stood in puddles, bugs breeding in it while noxious fumes of mold made the air stink. Every step forced up another invisible cloud of it, the sound of air passing through mud akin to farting. Fang laughed at the sound, blaming it on how easy it was to amuse her. Hope pulled up the collar of his shirt until it hung over his nose, hoping it would diffuse the odor. Light cringed just slightly, bearing the inconvenience quietly, much like Teh'Han.

The sooner they got out of this shit hole, the better. No one said it out loud, but no one had to either.

They had crossed nearly two thirds of the territory when Hope suddenly paused, his chocobo stopping as the young man tipped up his head.

"You guys hear something?"

Everyone else stopped, Fang and Light turning to look at him. Hope didn't say anything else for a moment, still listening until it happened again.

"Sounds like," Fang cocked her head to one side, her face twisting with mild confusion, "I dunno,"

"Like a man getting fucked by a goat." Light described with no intent at a joke. It's exactly what she heard, a strange, bleating sort of cry. "Sounds like its coming from out there," and she pointed, to the northwest. Fang and Hope both had a closer look, squinting with hands at their brows to block the sunlight.

There was something out there, a blur of movement that slowly came into better focus. It was a horde of moving bodies, one out in front being tailed by no less than a dozen others. The strange noises that carried so far were coming from whatever was being chased.

"Should we do something?" Hope wondered, looking to Light for an answer.

"It depends," Light turned her head, meeting Fang's eyes with her own. "You want to take the time?"

A fair question, one Fang only took a short moment to consider and answer. She took the lance off her back, the blades unfurling. "Let's go cause some trouble, eh?"

The three turned their mounts and started off in a mad dash. Teh'Han lingered behind, scowling. How was this any of their business, any of his concern? Shit happens to everyone, no point in interfering. But they seemed determined. Oh well.

The cannibals were thick statured, small framed savages covered in thick dreadlocks of hair around their drawn faces. That being said, they always hunted in large groups to compensate for their size. No less than ten, and as large as twenty or more. All of them were wielding crudely made steel weapons, swords and axes, waving them around in a mad hunting frenzy. Most of them were on foot, while a couple were riding on the backs of wild warthogs that were easily twice their size. Screeching and squealing they maintained a steady pursuit through the mud and muck.

Screaming at the top of his lungs was their prey, a strange looking fellow with long, floppy ears, a tail, horns, and hooves. From the waist down he was covered in ruddy hair with white and black spots, same for the hair on his head. He was covered in mud up to his knees, appearing to have hit every sink hole in the marsh in his hurry. He managed to stay just ahead of the starving pygmies, moving rather nimbly in spite of the terrain and the heavy leather pack jostling against his back, but only just so. They were bound to catch him given enough time.

Something whistled through the air, a glimmer of light that was there for a but a moment, and then a cannibal was knocked from its warthog due to a sharp blow to the side of his head. It happened two, three, four more times so fast you couldn't tell what was going on. The cannibals stopped, bewildered, looking around wild eyed and making all sorts of noise. A razor ring swept through the mob, slicing right through the handle of an ax, the blade falling into the mud as its owner screamed with terrified fury. Hope caught his weapon as it returned to him, the chocobo running at full tilt. Then Fang appeared, leaping from the bird's back swinging her lance in a wide arc.

The cannibals didn't relent until there was a loud bang that split the air. Then they scattered, terrified of the unfamiliar sound. Some hobbled, some ran, and a few others turned their pigs around to flee.

"That wasn't so hard," Fang seemed pleased, panting a little as she wiped away a smear of mud on her cheek. "Where'd the poor sod run off to?"

Hope slid out of the saddle, his head turned. "Look there,"

A fallen log half buried in muck had something sticking out the exposed end of it. A tucked tail and an ill fitting lower half. Hope approached with all the intent of a good samaritan, reaching out to touch the fellow's hip as it squirmed to fit in to the log, but it was an honest mistake. Out of sheer reaction the man kicked, launching one hoof to sock Hope in the gut. Clutching at his stomach he fell onto his backside, resisting the urge to roll over and into the mud.

"Now that wasn't very nice," Fang frowned, advancing. "We just saved your butt, fella, and that's how you thank us?"

With her spear once against resting against her back, she bent down and snatched both of his ankles and gave a good, firm pull with all of her strength. Out he came, scrapping and fighting the entire time. When he finally realized he'd been had, he curled up into a ball on the ground, his knees in his chest and his arms over his head.

"I swear I dinnae taste as good as yer hopin'!" he cried "I'll fight yeh lousy bastards all the way to the pot, I will!"

"That so?" Fang crossed her arms, amused. "Just get up, will ya? I got places to go,"

He stopped shaking, relaxing enough to move his arms away from his face. Black and amber eyes peered between his limbs. He quickly turned onto his backside, hands holding him up. She was easily the tallest pygmy he had ever seen.

"Come on," and she offered him her hand.

He couldn't show his gratitude with words, shocked at how quickly and without notice that his circumstances had changed. He wiped off his muddy hand on his leg before touching hers. "Th-thank yeh," he stammered, catching his breath. "Was it you who I,"

"Oh no, no," Fang shook her head trying not to laugh. "That would be my little buddy over there."

Hope was standing again, one arm on his chocobo to steady himself. He had lifted the front of his shirt to expose his stomach, finding a cloven welt bright red and in the middle of his belly.

"Oh dear," the satyr winced. "I dinnae mean to hurt the lad, just I was-,"

"It's fine, though it would be better to apologize to him instead of me."

"Oh aye," he nodded, suddenly looking as if he felt very guilty.

"So what's your name?"

"Bard." he replied. "Is it just the two of yeh?"

"We're with friends. Speaking of which," she craned her neck, wondering where the other two members of their party had gone. When she spotted Lightning she had to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Oh my,"

Lightning had fired the shot that scattered the cannibals, pulled the trigger on her gunblade just as her chocobo's foot hit a sink hole. At such speeds, the sudden stop hurled the former soldier from the saddle, and face first into the mire she went. She was covered head to toe in a brown, sticky mess, and she felt as filthy as she looked. It was everywhere, she could even feel it inside her boots and grit on her teeth. Underneath it you would be able to see that her face was beat red, so mad, too mad to rant and rave and cuss like she wanted. Needless to say she was less than pleased about this. And worse yet the fall had caused the chocobo to break its neck, killing it. Now she was trying to get what few things she had strapped to the saddle free, not wanting to leave it behind to sink into the marsh.

"Lass looks unhappy," Bard lifted one eyebrow.

"Lightning is never happy." Fang snickered. "So, Bard, where are you headed anyhow?"

"The fine arts conservatory in Arash."

"Where's that?"

"Supposedly to the north of here," he scratched behind one ear. "How about you and your lot?"

"We're going north as well, don't know exactly where though. Our guide isn't the most talkative type."

"Ah." it sounded like he understood entirely, though he'd never seen the man in his life. "Yeh dinnae suppose...you've done so much for me already, but...suppose I cannae come with ye, miss...?"

"Fang."

He had a funny way of talking, she thought briefly, but he didn't seem like an unpleasant guy. Sure, Fang had never lain eyes on a creature such as he before, but that did little to hamper her impression of him.

"I guess you could, so long as everyone else is okay with it."

The idea made the satyr fret a little. What if the lad he'd kicked said no? Or worse, tried to get payback for an honest mistake that he hadn't been able to control?

Teh'Han had been watching all the while, shaking his head from time to time with a shrug. He didn't have anything against the satyr, far from it. But he didn't know him from Adam, so how was anyone to expect that he do anything? Nature was cruel at times to everyone, a sick part of him actually taking comfort in knowing the gods didn't just pick on him. Was the shepherd simply unable to feel sympathy enough to lift a finger? That was possible.

In the end the satyr came along, walking beside the party as they found their way out of the straights. Lightning rode behind hope, her saddlebags on her shoulder, looking absolutely miserable with a hard expression darkened with filth, and a mud caked weapon across her lap. Hopefully, she prayed in her head, they would find some water so she could clean up.

But all afternoon and into early night they hadn't, even after leaving the marshes there wasn't so much as a clean puddle to be seen.

_(II)_

Vanille was on her knees in her master's room, the moon at her back and Hassan resting comfortably in his chair in front of her. He made the honest request of her to brush his hair, which is what she was doing at this very moment. With a firm bristled brush she started at his scalp and pulled slowly downward. She could only assume he was enjoying it, a strong indicator being the quiet groans that came from time to time. She could see his fingers gripping the wooden arm of the chair, goosebumps visible on his arm. He was very relaxed and seemingly very happy. The exact opposite of what Vanille was feeling.

Her body was tight all over, she needed to steady one hand with the other so she wouldn't shake and possibly knot her master's pristine silken locks. Her heart was pounding, making her breathe a little faster, quiet breaths that were more akin to those of mice scurrying across the floor to flee the cat. She was feeling the distinct need to bite her knuckle. Was he going to let her go to bed once he was satisfied, or would he take her to bed himself? Would he feed on her again and...well, you know...or would he chance to force her to remain conscious? Was she fretting over nothing? Try convincing her of that, why don't you.

All in all, she decided this was an activity he could have just as easily done with his wife without too much strain on her. So she had very little trouble or guilt in thinking him suspicious in his request.

"Are you feeling all right?" his voice came softly.

Vanille jumped slightly, pulling almost too hard on the brush. "Y-yes, master."

"You're not fibbing to me, are you, little one?" you could almost hear him smiling. "I can hear your heartbeat... it's so fast right now. What's the matter?"

"Nothing." she answered quickly, dipping her head to hide the redness in her face. As if he could see it somehow.

"Come now, tell me the truth. I won't be angry." You would think he already knew what she was going to say.

Vanille put her bottom lip between her teeth and pressed, not wanting to say what was on her mind. She was simply too afraid.

After while, knowing his prodding wasn't doing much good, he shrugged and straightened. Vanille recoiled, her hands tight against her chest, the handle of the brush digging into her sternum.

"You must think me awful." he said. "That's it, isn't it? The other night,"

Vanille felt her muscles tighten even more when his slitted eyes settled on her as he twisted in his chair, a sad shimmer in them.

"I'll take that as a yes." Hassan nodded. "I'm not as bad as you think, really,"

Miriam had said something similar, she thought briefly.

"It was nothing personal." he continued. "I certainly didn't do it out of malice, to be sure. But...I don't suppose you believe that,"

Once more she found the Bloodchief to be incredibly strange. To think such a considerate man could be such a callous vicemonger.

"I tried to be gentle with you." he mentioned, thinking it his self-saving grace. "It was your first time, wasn't it?"

Vanille looked away, eyes to the floor and her face becoming hot. She didn't have to say a single word to give him an honest answer.

"Ah-hah." and he stood up, taking the few steps needed to be beside her. She stood up as well when he gestured with his hand, finding her knees almost unable to bend when she bid them to. Hassan took the brush and set it on his desk, wanting her undivided attention. "You hate me, don't you?"

What on earth was she supposed to say? Vanille felt fairly certain that she didn't have the capacity to hate anyone, but would saying "no" be the truth? What would change if she said yes? Would it get worse? Was she willing to risk that?

In the end she didn't answer at all, and refused to look her master in the eye. She shivered, tensing when his hand settle on her cheek, chilling, his claws tickling around her ear.

"I'm sorry, little one, really. It's just...well...when you get right down to it, I'm only a man."

That was his ultimate excuse? Really? Okay, maybe hate wasn't such a stretch. He needed an itch to be scratched and his wife couldn't do it, so he was going elsewhere. That was it, just like Donovan said.

Nothing personal.

"Is it so bad, though?" He asked, completely sincere. "If it is, it certainly doesn't have to be. Just tell me...let me know what I can do."

_You could stop, for one_, but she knew that wasn't an option.

"I could make it enjoyable for you." he drew closer, his body now pressed against hers. He found a silent delight in how her heartbeat increased, feeling how her skin heated to him. "At least let me try."

Vanille didn't want to let him, not by a long shot, but what could she do about it? If she resisted, denied him out right, it could hurt her chances of being set free. That was certainly something she didn't want to lose, so it was worth tolerating this...this...arrangement.

Hassan realized right away that she was only pacifying him, like all of them did, but it didn't bother him. It was better this way, easier, uncomplicated.

The vampire thought to ease things along by giving the girl a kiss, conservative at first, and then moving on at a steady pace from there. She received it as well as he could've expected, without complaint, and didn't show any resistance to being led to his bed. He slowly began to undress her, ignoring the quiet despair on her face as her breasts were revealed. She really was such a beautiful young thing.

Vanille felt herself shudder, tense whenever he touched her. Little shocks of the tips of claws drawn across her skin, the chill of his palms on her naked breasts. It was nigh on sickening, but she forced it down. If she could put up with this, stand it for only a little while, she would get to go home.

"Touch me, little one." he demanded with a low, breathy growl. He grabbed one of her wrists and forced her hand against his chest, all the while he kissed her throat, laving at the sealed bite marks with his lukewarm tongue.

His skin was cold and slick with a thin veil of sweat. She bit her lip, wanting so badly to bite her knuckle instead. Her jaw tightened when his hands clenched around the swell of her hips, pulling her closer still, and she could feel his erection pressing through his wrap and against her stomach. She turned her head away, her chin digging into her shoulder, cringing.

Gripping her still by the hips, Hassan lifted her with unnatural ease and laid her on the bed, the silken sheets just as cool as his own skin. His claws found the knot in her wrap and all too skillfully untied it, throwing it to the floor once he had pulled it free. Her knees knocked together, tight like a vice. It made him grin against her throat. It was the hunter in him.

Hassan grabbed her wrist once again, this time having her grab the pin that held his own wrap in place.

"Go ahead," came his heated whisper. "Just give it a tug."

She was almost thankful it was just the pin he was talking about. Vanille did as he said, pulling just so until she felt it give. She heard the metal trinket hit the marble floor with a noticeable chime, it having pulled his clothing along with it. Now he was just as bare as she. Her pulse surged, her body growing hot and anxious. She wanted nothing more than for this to be done and over with, closing her eyes and turning her head away as he eased over her.

Vanille knew Hassan was trying to please her, touching her all over in such a kind, intimate manner, but it didn't quell the sickening urge she had to cry. Tears welled up, burned like they never had before, but they never emerged from between her tightened eyelids. She choked them back the entire time. Perhaps a small voice in her head said it would upset him somehow to see her tears, and the idea frightened her. She refused to allow her sorrow to show, taking his treatment with what she considered to be silent dignity. Not that she could do much else.

Hassan was careful with the girl, holding her close as he first entered her, listening to her pained whimper as she pressed her face into his neck, into his hair. He took his time, allowed her to adjust.

It was painful. Vanille knew she'd been through much worse, with wounds deep enough to be near lethal, but it had never hurt like this. Like getting fucked with an icicle. He was so cold, forcing her to wonder for a glimmer of a moment how vampires could possibly tolerate making love at all.

Her master had been kind, almost loving. He had held her to him with a temerity that was deceivingly tender, like he actually gave a damn about her feelings, yet all the while ramming his cock into her like an animal in heat. It left her sore, feeling sullied and too tired to do little more than lay there. With a sluggish hand she wiped the droplets of sweat from her forehead, somehow finding the strength to sit up.

The tears were threatening again, you could hear it in her voice. "May I...can I go to bed now, master?"

He lay on his back, panting, his hair in loose tangles around his neck and chest. "Yes, little one, you may."

With a quiet "thank you" she gathered her clothes, dressing, and then leaving the room as soon as possible. Tears began streaming uncontrolled down her face, making it somewhat difficult to see as she hurried down the darkened corridor. She wiped furiously at her eyes, never noticing that someone was watching her.

Slitted eyes peered out from the shadows of a column with a hungry gleam. It was Tezzim. He had been watching, listening, and he could smell his brother all over the little mortal.

Author's Note: Okay, I know I said this wouldn't be out until after AWA, but I suppose I fibbed. Hopefully this drivel will keep everyone pacified until I get back. Now, I'm sure everyone has a few questions about what in all happened here. Why didn't Teh'Han help out? And what on earth is Tezzim up to, scoping out his brother's booty call? Well, if you want a little hint, often times people love pining for things they shouldn't have. I'll let you draw you own conclusions. Also, you can expect the sexual abuse to only get worse, believe me. It may not be much to some of you, but it will make some of you others go WTF, at least a little anyway.


	17. Chapter XVI

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Lightning felt disgusting even though most of the mud had dried and been brushed away. It still stained her clothes, and she still felt covered in what could be described as a thin layer of ick. It made her skin look brown and her hair seem gray. She sat in the grass around the fire with the others, her vest and boots beside her still drying, legs crossed and miserable as she continued to try and clean the gunk that still marred her gunblade. Hope was in and out of light sleep, his back against his chocobo who was already curled up for the night. His head would dip up and down until finally he simply relaxed and let sleep take him. His whole body had been sore all evening, and he needed the rest.

Their new addition, Bard, was wide awake and chewing on a handful of grass that he had just pulled out of the ground and shoved in his mouth. He had his leather backpack in his lap, along with his dirtied leather vest and a red scarf, going through its contents to make sure nothing was damaged.

Bard was a musician, and he carried all of his instruments with him. Some of them were dirty, mud caking the strings of his mandolin, and some gunk in the mouthpiece of his bagpipes. He also carried a violin, but kept it in a leather wrap as an extra measure. He could play a lot of different things, but it wouldn't have been very prudent for him to strap a piano to his back, now would it? Fang was sitting close to him, fascinated by his belongings, a look on her face that belied some eager desire to ask him to play.

"Before my teacher died he told me I should go to the conservatory, meet one of his other students. I suppose he thought us a good pair...musically at least."

Fang nodded. "That's a funny accent you have."

One of his bushy, pie-balled eyebrows cocked up. "Is it, now? Well, I dinnae ken yours is so plain either. I actually find it a wee bit silly m'self."

"Wee? What's that?" she laughed.

"Yeh know, wee, tiny,"

"So why don't you just say tiny?"

"Cause it's just not the word," he sounded frustrated with her, but his smirk was a dead giveaway to the opposite. "That's like if I asked why yeh dinnae say wee."

"Fair enough," she thought. "But where are you from, talking like that?"

"Far, far to the west, along the coastline and where the sun sets over the moors." he described in a sing-song kind of sigh.

"There more like you out there?"

"Plenty more. I m'self am one of twenty kids." please, excuse the pun.

"Twenty?" Fangs eyes widened. "No kidding?"

"Oh, ha-ha,"

She hadn't meant to make the joke, but it was funny enough anyhow. "Looks like music is a big thing where you're from."

"Oh aye, though not as much as yeh think. Music is what yeh do if your too weak and piddly to jack lumber. That and doctorin'. All my brothers and sisters work the woodlands...you could say I'm the black sheep of the family."

"Now who's making the jokes?" although it piqued her curiosity to think his sisters were lumber jacks. They would have to be massive by most female standards. "So...where did your kind come from?"

Bard looked up at the stars, thinking a moment. "Some stories say a goat just stood up one day. Others say the gods were just dickin' around and we popped out of the ground. There's no real answer, I ken."

"What's that mean?"

"I think," he explained.

"I'll figure it out eventually." Fang threw up her hands, refusing to try any longer for the time being. "Good night."

"G'night, miss Fang."

Teh'Han was quietly puffing on his pipe, staring out into the darkness in the direction they would be heading in the morning. His brow was creased, his mouth tight, and he didn't appear to be blinking at all. He hadn't even spoken to Fang since leaving the marshes. Lightning thought that the chip on his shoulder must've gotten bigger.

The more time she spent in his presence, the more she found herself helpless to the sheer curiosity of what his problem was. What was going through his head? What was he so damn twisted up about? She didn't much care for secretive people, doubly so for those people she was forced to work with. Savage old hermit.

When she decided it was time to try and sleep she didn't even bother with her bedroll. It would just get smeared with mud anyhow, no use in dirtying something else. If they had camped closer to a water source, she would've cleaned up by now. But no, no such luck. By the gods, how much more could today suck? Thankfully it was over with.

She woke to the quiet stillness of the early morning, sunrise only minutes away. She saw that the sky had turned a peculiar shade of pink when her eyes opened and focused. With her arms over her head and toes pointing she stretched before sitting up, having a quick look around to reacquaint with the state of things.

Everyone else was already awake, but their belongings were still sitting in the grass where they had left them during the night. The others had gathered no too far away, still within ear shot, and they seemed to be collectively looking at something that demanded all of their attention. Lightning stood up, still barefoot as she went to see what was going on. It couldn't be all that important if no one bothered to wake her.

"Mornin' sunshine," Fang greeted quietly from over her shoulder.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because I don't feel like being eviscerated."

"Pardon?"

"Have a look." and Fang pointed towards the southwest, where the grasses grew taller and tawny, opening into a vast emptiness.

Lightning had to squint, but even then she couldn't find anything. "What?"

"Look real close, right there," with a hand on Light's shoulder she pointed again, thinking it would help. Light followed, squinting once again, searching for what her friend was trying to show her. It took a long moment, but she found it. A rust colored tuft of something that was near invisible among the other grasses.

"What is that?" a better question, "And why are we just standing here?"

"Shepherd said we're surrounded." Hope answered her latter inquiry. "Said they might attack if we try to run."

Bullshit. Light twisted her neck to have a look behind her and all around, unable to see a damn living thing other than themselves. "Who's they?"

"The Leonin." Bard swallowed, so full of fear that his knobby knees threatened to crash together as he shook.

"But he also said that they're just watching, and if we stay put they may just leave."

"What the hell is a Leonin?"

Teh'Han stood still, looking out into the field, watching the numerous tufts he could easily pick out. There were maybe...twelve of them altogether, forming a circled around their camp. They had been there for a few hours now, just watching. Part of him was just as curious as the creatures out there. Who's pride was this? He knew there were several that roamed this area, but he couldn't tell from here, he couldn't see the markings that were unique to each group. They were hiding too well.

Then one of the hunters stood up, abruptly, almost like an accident, allowing the humans to see. Broad shoulders, stout chest, and covered in tawny and rust colored fur, the male Leonin was a majestic peculiarity. A braided mane framed his feline face. The tufts among the tall grass had been their tails. Then another stood up, looking very similar to the other. And another, and another, until not a single one was still hidden.

"I'm starting to think bestiality was a popular pass-time on Gran Pulse." Lightning's sarcasm was about as evident as her awe.

"Maybe you should think about letting that cut under you nose heal, too." Fang countered, not caring too much for her accusations. "I heard stories of these fellows growing up. Even thought I saw one once, but it didn't look like them."

Hope was unable to say anything, too enthralled with the creatures in front of him. You would think after having seen the Fal'Cie in all there terrible visages that nothing would surprise him anymore. But that didn't appear to be the case. He was thoroughly fascinated with them, almost excited just being in their presence.

Teh'Han gave a slight nod. He knew this pride well and felt no danger, picking out their leader by the white markings in the largest male's mane. He thought to take a step forward, closely watching the few Leonin he could see for a reaction. Another step followed and soon enough he was walking of so casually out into the tall grass, advancing without apparent intent until he stood right in front of the alpha male. The others hadn't moved with the exception of Bard, who had put his fist over his mouth with his eyebrows hiked up near his hairline.

The Leonin glared down his muzzle at the human with staggering amber eyes, the glimmer of the rising sun in them. His black, moistened nose twitched in curious sniffing, his features then twisting into a hard scowl, the lips lifting to reveal beautiful fangs with a breathy growl.

After a tense moment Teh'Han blinked. "You still don't scare me."

The Leonin's snarl suddenly morphed into an open jawed laugh, his mighty arms stretching to circle around the human, the only creature without a tail that he had ever called his friend.

"I thought that was you I smelled!" he squeezed Teh'Han tight against his big, hairy shoulder.

"It's good to see you, Shilo." Teh'Han strained to speak, though smiling. "You seem well."

The Leonin released his hold, only to continue to grip Teh'Han by the shoulders out in front of him. "Where have you been all this time _ae mot_?"

"Away," was the most honest answer he could give.

Shilo looked almost displeased, not wanting such a vague reply. "Well...never mind that. What brings you here? Are you going to stay?"

"Not long, I fear." Teh'Han dipped his head, almost sad to say so.

"That's a shame. Who's that your with?" the lion tipped his head, gesturing across the way. "Never smelt folks like that before."

"That's because one of them needs a bath," he turned his head about half way around and then back again. "But I am acting as their guide, taking them north. Unfortunately we are pressed for time."

"Can you not stay for a short while? Whatever you or your companions need you will have. And the rest of the pride would be very happy to see you,"

Teh'Han found a soft spot in his heart for the cat, unable to tell him no straight away. Part of him wanted to stay, another part remembered the promise he had made that far superseded his wants. "Let me speak with them first."

"Of course." and the Leonin finally let him go.

The others saw Teh'Han walking towards them, rather surprised.

"So it dinnae eat him?" Bard had finally found it in him to settle the fuck down.

"Actually looks like the old man has a friend." Fang was more shocked than she sounded.

"I guess everyone has to be liked by somebody," Lightning crossed her arms with a shrug.

When Teh'Han was close enough he pulled aside with a gesture of his hand. He spoke to her with a hushed tone. "They want us to stay awhile."

"What for?"

"I lived with them for a time," he explained briefly. "We don't have to, just say so and we'll be on our way. I know you don't wish to linger long,"

"No, I don't." she shook her head, pondering the prospects for a considerable moment. "But, like you've said, we've been making good time."

"Better than expected."

"Hmm," Fang curled a finger against her chin, her brow knitting at the middle. "Maybe...yeah. Perhaps until this afternoon. Just a few hours."

"So be it." and though his tone was one of indifference, Teh'Han felt a glimmer of joy in him for the first time in a long time.

They gathered their things and the chocobos and followed the Leonin back to their camp a mile or two to the southwest. Sure, this was backtracking by all means, but it didn't really feel like it. There was no sense of lost progress.

Shilo's pride was made up of thirty strong Leonin, most of them females, and over two dozen cubs of varying ages. At this early hour of the day only the males were awake, but it wouldn't be long until the others roused themselves. There were tents surrounding a cold fire pit, arranged in a circle and all were made from multiple hides and pelts from past successful hunts. Some were meant for the children and their protective mothers, another was for the males that weren't the alpha, and another, the largest, was reserved for Shilo and his harem of wives. Clearly the Leonin stayed very true to their bloodlines in spite of walking on two legs and speaking.

Lionesses lifted their heads, peeking above the grass as they heard steps, some even emerging from their tents. Cubs scurried into view, some of them too young and unable to walk upright. All of them could smell something new, something alien, and their feline's curiosity was too much to ignore. They had to know what it was, know whether or not they could or should eat it. One male that had stayed behind started baying, a low bellowing sound that went off as some kind of alarm. The pride needed to know that they had visitors.

It wasn't long before all of the Leonin were up and about. Cubs were sneaking away from their mothers and squatting in the grass as if stalking the strangers coming into their camp. A vast majority of them had never seen humans before. Why didn't they have any fur? Where were their tails? And why were their claws so short and stubby?

"_Ta lun_!" one cub shouted, running through the grass with fangs showing in a feline smile. "_Ta lun_!"

That one was joined by several others, ranging from maybe eight years of age to nearly sixteen, most of them not having even come into their manes. They all ran for Teh'Han, using their name for him meaning, roughly translated, "other father". If you translate it directly, it means "that man". I know, I like the first one better myself.

Most of these cubs had been infants when Teh'Han was last here, but they still remembered him. It warmed his heart, and part of him felt the urge to cry.

The larger of the young lions hugged him, or greeted him in the traditional manner. The littler ones gripped at his sari and latched onto his ankles, laughing and trying to roar in their excitement.

"That's damn cute," Fang was smiling from ear to ear.

"The kids or him?" Lightning smirked, but only so much.

"Both. I mean it's great for the old fella, but," she paused a moment, "these kids are just precious. You've got babies and kittens all rolled into one."

"I never saw you as one to like kids."

"Are you joking? I love them," and Fang's tone suggested that Light should've known that already.

At first Lightning didn't believe it, but got the proof she needed when one of the more curious cubs stood in front of Fang, looking up at her with big golden eyes. Without hesitation Fang knelt down and put her hands around the little one and lifted it up that she might have their noses touch. The Leonin screeched and kicked its feet, seemingly delighted that its first encounter with a human was so pleasant.

"Aren't you just adorable?" Fang was gushing.

Light felt something tugging at her shoulder. The former soldier turned to see a cub jumping for the hem of that stretch of red fabric. She simply walked on, unsure of what to do about it.

Shilo had been right; the pride was very happy to see Teh'Han again, and all of them came to greet him with all the elation of long lost friends reunited. Every Leonin present had to, at the very least, lay a paw on him before they were satisfied. The females tended to hang on him a little more enthusiastically than the males, though.

"He seems pretty popular," Hope said aloud, watching as lion cubs wove around his feet.

"That he does," Bard agreed, nodding his head sharply, his ears flopping with the motion.

"You okay?" he noticed how the satyr was so uneasy, his amber eyes darting and hands a little too tightly clenched on the straps of his backpack.

"Oh aye, I am. Just a wee bit...yeh know," he seemed to have trouble finding the words, "I'm feelin' a wee bit like the fattest pumpkin at harvest time."

Hope didn't have the slightest idea what on earth he was talking about, but had a feeling. Bard was afraid he was going to get eaten. Perhaps there was a history of less than pleasant Leonin-satyr relations. "I think we'll be all right." he assured the goat man, but saw that it did little to soothe his nerves.

"I'll be all right when we get back along our way." Bard nodded sharply again, faking a smile with his large front teeth tucking his bottom lip.

The Leonin were hospitable folks, at least it seemed that way. They only stared out of curiosity, but were otherwise welcoming and warm natured. Shilo saw to it that everyone was comfortable as they entered his tent, giving out orders like one would think typical of a king to his subjects. And he was a king well obeyed.

A posse of females was gathered up to hunt so their guests might eat. One of them made the eager request that "_ta lun_" go with them. Normally males didn't hunt, but Teh'Han wasn't exactly a typical male, certainly not by Leonin standards. He agreed to go, thinking he was indulging his hosts good graces in doing so. Fang and Light were extended the same offer, but gratefully declined. Fang was far too engrossed with interacting with the cubs, she couldn't get enough of them. For Lightning, she only wanted to do one thing: bathe.

"Some of my wives will escort you," Shilo said, several females appearing beside him. Tall, sleek, majestic in their golden pelts and matching eyes. "And you will be given a change of clothes until yours are clean."

"Thank god." and Lightning had no reservations in following the lionesses, wherever it was they were intending to take her.

Pelt blankets littered the ground inside the tent, some lionesses still sleeping on them near the edges. Each of them, perhaps six, were pregnant, and all of them were Shilo's. It was good to be the king.

"Please, sit, make yourselves comfortable."

The others accepted his offer, sitting in a malformed circle where light was coming through a large hole at the top of the tent, with a host of cubs shadowing behind them, leashed by their own wonder. By the way Shilo seemed to ignore them, everyone simply assumed they were his. They would sniff and swat at them, play with loose straps and laces, or even attempt to climb them as if they were some great obstacle. One was eyeballing Bard's tail as it swished stiffly behind him. Damn it, they were so cute.

"Up until now, Han had been the only human most of us had ever seen." Shilo seemed very pleased that the fact had changed as he sat down, his legs crossed beneath the long, brown wrap around his waist. "From where do all of you hail?"

"Oerba, to the south," Fang answered, diverting her attention from the fuzzy babies for a split second.

"Glanwood, to the west." Bard replied, watching a cub as it crept out of his vision.

"Cocoon."

Shilo and Bard both looked at the young man with big eyes. If there was one thing they had seen less of in their lives than humans, it was anything that had once lived on the previously orbiting moon.

"Is...something wrong?" he asked cautiously.

"Not at all, boy, not at all," Shilo seemed to have trouble accepting Hope's answer. "Just...not what I expected to hear. Still, I'm pleased to have you all here."

"Thanks for the invitation." Fang now had one of the cubs in her lap, the tike playing quietly with the braid that fell from behind her ear. "How do you know Han? He told me he had lived here for a while."

"Yes, he did, some seven...eight years ago now, I think." the Leonin pulled at the small plait he had on his fuzzy chin. "Only stayed with us for a few months, but we feel like he's family. How is it _you_ know him?"

"He saved my life. Now he's helping us find my sister."

Shilo grinned. "It's nice to know he returned the favor to someone."

"What favor?"

"I don't suppose he told you how we first met, did he? Didn't think so, man's very quiet, especially about himself."

"Please, do tell." Fang could feel her curiosity getting the better of her. Part of her had always wanted to know more about the shepherd, but had always been discouraged by the unspoken fact that he would never say.

"I actually found him not too far from here." Shilo began. "I was out with a scouting party, thought I smelled something funny and went to see what it was. Turns out it was him. There he was, filthy, naked, and starving. Poor man was just skin and bones, maybe this big around," and he held up his paw, his thumb and forefinger pressed together. An exaggeration of course, but you get the picture. "Still, when he realized we were there, he found the strength-and perhaps stupidity-to hold up a rock with all the intent to do me serious harm. We lions admire that sort of courage, so we took him in."

"What happened to him?" Hope asked. He found it hard to imagine Teh'Han as anything smaller than a brute, much less an emaciated wreck.

"He never said." Shilo shook his head, his mane tossing gently. "But no one asked, either. We didn't feel it was much of our business, or perhaps he would tell us given some time. Although..." he paused, his furry brow tightening. "I've always had a feeling."

"About what?" Fang wanted to hear more.

"Well...I know Han's a good man, but," the lion was having all the trouble of someone had never voiced his thoughts before. "Somehow I just knew something terrible had happened to him, whatever it was that had driven him to us. Maybe it was in his eyes, but I knew somehow. As happy as he appeared to be here, there was always a sort of sadness about him."

Now that she had heard it from someone else, she realized she had been seeing the same thing. Though it seemed like the man was never happy to begin with, and sometimes it was like he felt nothing at all, she could sense that despair in him.

"And then, a few months later, he just up and disappeared without a word. I don't know why." and Shilo made a rare show of genuine concern for the man he thought of as a brother.

"I suppose now would be a great opportunity to ask, wouldn't it?"

"I've been thinking about it from the moment I caught his scent earlier this morning." Shilo shook his head again, seeming puzzled. "He fit in so well here, I can't imagine why he would want to leave. Everyone loved him, even the women! They would fawn over him like they should've been fawning over me!" he jabbed his clawed thumb at his chest.

"Sweet teat of Amalthea!" Bard suddenly sprung upward from a dead sit, hooves kicking until he crashed down onto his hands and knees. Then he went twisting around, reaching for his tail. The tip of it was now bald, and where he had once been sitting was crouching a cub with a mouthful of hair and looking quite proud of himself.

Bard only laughed nervously, smiling as he tried not to scream. "S-sweet wee lad, 'innee?" he pat the cub on the head, let him have his prize, and resumed his seat with what was left of his tail tucked beneath his backside for safety. "P-please continue, good sir."

Shilo was trying his damnedest not to laugh, but failed. With all his teeth showing and slapping his thigh he let his voice out in a belly deep guffaw. "My boys are a curious lot, hope you don't hold it against them."

"N-not at all," the satyr felt like fainting, particularly as his eyes settled on the lion's impressive incisors. And then he swallowed hard, still trying to keep his brave face.

"Are all of these yours?" Fang was tired of assuming and needed to know for sure.

"Most of them," Shilo picked the little boy up when he wandered close, letting him sit on his massive shoulders. "It just fills my heart to see the little ones running around. But, back to the matter at hand...Han's a good man, I just think he's very particular about who he shows that too. It was a month before he ever said anything to me."

"I'm sure someone I know could've used that information a month or so ago." Fang smirked.

"Oh?"

Fang explained Teh'Han's relationship with Lightning, or lack thereof, how they didn't speak to one another at all in spite of working towards the same goal, and Shilo seemed to understand. "Han has a great deal of respect for women, but not when they treat him like that."

"Naturally. But Light's too stubborn to admit she's wrong."

"There's a phrase for women like that," the Leonin smiled knowingly with a short nod.

"I know, I've heard it." Fang tried not to laugh.

"What phrase?" Hope wondered.

"Tell you when you're older, kid." Fang half promised. And Hope only made a strange face, still somewhat confused.

"Still," Shilo continued, "maybe once she comes to her senses they'll be friends. It would certainly be better for your search if they were."

"You could be on to something there. In any case, you can't force people to get along. We'll just have to see what happens."

"Indeed."

Before he could say any more on the subject, the pride crier sounded off once again, signaling the return of the hunting party. That soon? Well, to be true, they had been sitting there chatting for the better part of an hour and a half.

Teh'Han had enjoyed the outing, not realizing until now how much he missed hunting. It had been one of his few responsibilities while living here those few years back. Then he hadn't noticed how much joy it brought him, how the rush made him feel alive. He held his head up higher than usual as he and the lionesses entered the camp, blood splashed across his chest and on his steel covered hand from the large boar-like creature they had felled.

Being here made him feel so good, so much better than he had for a long while. It was almost like home. He felt wanted, needed, and in a few cases, desired. Yeah, believe it or not, a lioness or two thought he was fascinating enough to be a potential mate. Sure, biologically it would never work, but he couldn't help but entertain the idea a little. He would be a good mate, he thought. He was good with children, he could keep a home well enough...nah. In the end it simply wouldn't work.

He thought back to when he first came here, how the Leonin had stared at him as he drifted in and out of sleep for a solid week, barely moving and barely alive. He had been so weak he was surprised they had bothered to help him. But they took pity on him, nursed him back to health, and more or less adopted him. They made the steel claw for him so he could hunt, do his part to provide from the pride, and thus he earned the right to be included in all the activities. Wrestling, dancing, singing, and courting in some circumstances. Usually the females approached him, not having the confidence needed to do it himself.

Makes you wonder why he ever left, doesn't it? You would think he would stay considering the hell he had crawled out of to get there. Well, that's a personal matter, one he had yet to tell a single soul. Shilo was one of his few, dearest friends, and he hadn't the heart to even tell him why. Well, they wouldn't be staying much longer, perhaps he would just stick his head in the ground and ignore it until it went away like he did with all of his other problems.

Lost in his thoughts, Teh'Han wasn't entirely aware of where he was walking, quick to apologize when he bumped into someone. Or had someone bumped into him? That's what it felt like, a hard something brushing past his empty shoulder and not pausing for even a second. He opened his mouth to ask forgiveness but stopped, mouth still open when he realized what he was looking at.

Pale rose hued hair still dripping wet, clinging around a woman's shoulders that were tight and hiked high. Lightning passed him in such a hurry, wanting to cover herself. Oh she was dressed, but as far as she saw it she might as well have been in her underwear. To put it as plainly as possible, Lightning had been forced to wear the common garb for Leonin women: a fur bikini. It was barely enough to cover anything. Her ass was practically hanging out, her legs were bare as well. The only thing that wasn't making her blush was her naked stomach. She hurried through the camp with her arms crossed and head down, knowing that everyone would be staring. It was bad enough they did it the entire time she had been cleaning up in the watering hole, but now it seemed worse. Now the males were around to do it too. She needed to hide for at least another hour, until her clothes had dried.

Teh'Han couldn't look away. He stopped walking entirely and simply stared. He hadn't even closed his mouth.

"Hey, sunshine, nice outfit," Fang had been standing outside Shilo's tent, curious if nothing else, but not expecting to see her friend so soon.

Lightning rushed right by, her face beet red.

"Looks breezy,"

"Shut it," she snapped. "And I _don't_ have a cottage cheese ass,"

Fang's expression twisted sharply. "I didn't say you did! I'm not even looking at it,"

"You were thinking it!" and Light disappeared back into the alpha's tent. Hope emerged maybe a few seconds later, covering his nose with one hand.

Fang just started to laugh, unable to stop for the longest time. Now she had new ammunition to totally pester the living shit out of her.

"Miss Fang?"

She wiped her eyes, trying to catch her breath. She blinked her vision clear and then looked at the satyr. "Hm?"

"I cannae say I know any of yeh all too well, but," he paused a moment, looking smug. "Did yeh happen teh see what I saw?"

"Other than the funniest thing in my life?"

"Oh aye. Have a look at yonder big fella there," and he pointed. Teh'Han was still just standing there, looking rather dazed.

"Well, I'll be damned." she knew that look, she'd seen it a few times before. "You don't suppose...?"

"I cannae say for sure," although his tone belied that. "But I ken our old man be a wee twitterpated."

"At the very least we know he's straight." she snickered. "Still, I don't think it'll be much. A man doesn't have to like a woman to like how she looks."

"True, true. Ah well, cannae blame me for thinkin' it." and Bard moved on, feeling a bit hungry himself. He needed greener grass than what grew around here, so a short walk was in order.

"You saw it too?"

Fang turned her head to see Shilo, his hands behind his back and his tail curling slightly.

"Oh yeah, how could you miss it?"

"Never seen him like that before."

"Well, he's only a man."

"And your friend is not unattractive. She has a strong body, could give him many strong children." the lion nodded. "Or, at the very least, a rousing romp in the tall grass."

Fang laughed so hard she nearly threw up.

_(II)_

Vanille felt like throwing up.

Her body was tight and her hands shook as they fisted in her lap. She couldn't decide between gnawing on her knuckle or scratching at the old bite marks on her neck. There was no peace beneath Kasa's scrutiny. The madam had wanted to play chess again, never mind that her opponent was still poor at best. For an hour Vanille found herself making her pieces retreat whenever possible, almost mimicking her own desire to flee and hide somewhere. She felt as though the Bloodchief was looking straight through her, or that if she were to look up that the slits of Kasa's eyes would be wide. She would charm her like she had the would-be assassin, make her jump out the window or something for what she had allowed Hassan to do. Surely she could smell her husband on her.

Even as Donovan came to give her the regular once over in the afternoon, Vanille could feel the vampire's gaze.

"There was a lot of movement this morning, Donovan," Kasa mentioned, looking a bit concerned. "It was shortly after you left."

"That so? Well, let's have a little feel then." He knelt down in front of her, pressing his palms to her belly. A few moments later he straightened again. "Nothing to worry about, madam. The little one was just turning. By all rights they'll be ready any time now. Any day at the earliest and...perhaps next month at the latest."

"Hassan will be pleased to hear that." she nodded, smiling in approval. "Thank you, Donovan."

"Of course, madam. Are you in need of anything else?"

"Not now. You may go,"

"Yes, ma'am." and with the usual bow he turned and left. Vanille begged silently in her mind for him to stay, let her feel somewhat safe in his presence, but he departed all the same. It felt like the last tiny spark in a dying fire had just gone out, leaving her cold.

"Now, where were we," Kasa wondered, drumming her fingers on her belly. "Was it my turn?"

"Y-yes, ma'am." she wasn't sure if that was true, couldn't rightly remember, but said it anyway.

"Very well." Kasa thought a moment and then moved a piece. "Checkmate."

She was right. "Do you want to go again?"

"No, not at the moment." Kasa sighed, lounging back. She watched the girl a moment, listened to her heartbeat. It was far too easy to tell that she was uneasy about something, something she already knew. "You think I'm angry?"

Vanille shuddered, her body tightening. Her mouth went dry and she found herself unable to even look up, much less speak.

"I'm not." Kasa answered her own question. "I suppose you find that odd? Well, to humans I would imagine it is. You tend to hold sex with a little more reverence than we do."

Deep down Vanille really didn't want to hear this, she didn't want to think about it.

"We have so much trouble having children...you could say any opportunity to conceive is welcomed. With that being said, you can guess that marriage doesn't necessarily make us exclusive to one another physically."

Then what was marriage for?

"It makes us exclusive to each other in a more emotional sense. We may only love each other, no one else. You see, my husband is not in love with you, so he is not unfaithful to me. And in my state I cannot give him all the love I want to, but I can by allowing him to do as he pleases. If Hassan is happy, so am I."

The need to bite her knuckle was suddenly stronger than ever, making her go so far as to let her hand rest against her closed mouth.

"However," Kasa's tone suddenly stiffened, "if anything changes, say you might have feelings for Hassan, you can be sure that I will be angry. _Very_ angry."

Vanille's lips threatened to part and allow her finger to slip between her teeth.

"Am I understood?"

"Y-yes."

"Good." and the Bloodchief smiled, satisfied that her point had been well received. "How's about we play something else? Maybe cards,"

Vanille began gathering the chess pieces to put them back on their shelf, pausing for a brief moment when the bedroom door swung open.

"There she is, the woman of the year!" Tezzim stepped into the room with a grand gesture, making sure everyone was aware of his presence. "My dear sister, I just heard the good news from the doctor. Is it true, the baby is almost ready?"

"Yes," she nodded with a tiny sigh, as if her brother-in-law's attention was a bit trying. "Is there something you need?"

"Actually," he came a few large steps forward, his hands folded behind him. "I have a funny request."

"Which would be?"

"I have received a commission for a painting and I would like _oh_-so very much to borrow your playmate as my model."

Kasa cocked up a thin eyebrow while Vanille, with her head dipped down, bit her bottom lip. She didn't want to go anywhere with the sleazy twin and under no circumstances whatsoever.

_Please don't make me, please don't make me, please-please-please..._

"For how long?" Kasa thought to at least entertain him for the moment.

"Probably for the rest of the day. The patron wanted a rather large portrait." Tezzim sounded honest in his estimate. "Surely someone else can keep you company, my bondswoman would be more than happy to. Or you could ask the doctor,"

"I suppose," Kasa interrupted, contemplative. "Yes, I suppose that would be fine. Call for Donovan on your way out, if you would."

"Anything for you, sister dear. Now come along little one, we mustn't dawdle." and the vampire smiled, holding out his hand for her to take.

Vanille shuddered again, but did as she was told. The need to vomit was back again.

Author's Note: Sorry for all the filler, it just seemed needed. I wanted the opportunity to tell a little more of Teh'Han's story, so yeah. I'll get more to it, if not divulge everything else on him very soon. And I know Shilo is a little two-dimensional for now, but I'll see what I can do about that. Also, if anyone out there is an expert on Scottish accentual slang, please don't write me telling me how much "I'm doing it wrong", kay? Thanks.


	18. Chapter XVII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Vanille followed Tezzim back to his room. Well, his room-slash-studio, and very much unlike his twin, he did not keep his living space orderly. His bed was not made, and the floor was littered with a myriad of tools and leavings of projects. Chisels, paint brushes, sheets of music, and other such loose articles that would be better off on their respective shelves. Perhaps a dozen easels lined the walls, and almost none of them cradled a finished piece. There was a half finished marble statue on a wooden platform in the middle of the room, just faintly resembling a human form lost among rough edges and pock marks made by a tentative hand. It seemed like Tezzim simply wasn't happy unless he had fifty things going on at once to keep him occupied.

"Please, you must excuse the mess." he laughed a little, pulling the fur collared cloak from his shoulders. It was enough to keep him comfortable and not hamper him, regardless of whether or not he was working on anything. Otherwise he had on these fine, billowing silk pants that shimmered the same violet hue as his perfect head of hair.

"It's fine," she said without thinking much about it. Why would he care what she thought anyway?

"Yes, yes it is a fine mess after all." he laughed again, beginning to rummage through his mismanaged belongings for a blank canvas suitable for his needs. "Here we are." Finding what he sought he set up an easel and went rummaging once again to find his paint and the right brushes. Mind you they were already strewn about the floor, but he still needed to find where he'd strewn them. What a scatter brain.

With that finished, he just needed to arrange his model, which you wouldn't have guessed he was doing considering the way he simply stood there with his hand at his chin staring at her. Vanille felt like curling into a ball and hiding in the nearest, darkest and deepest hole. Since that wasn't possible, she simply kept her eyes to floor and wrung her hands together.

Tezzim tapped a claw against his cheekbone, his brow knitted tightly at the center. Any artist worth his weight in anything knows that half of a portrait's appeal is in the pose. So many...so many ideas buzzed between his ears, mental pictures going a mile a minute through his head. Then it struck him.

"Ah-ha!" he strode across the floor with an excited smirk. Near his bed was a plump, crimson sofa with a fine wooden frame, the varnish nearly black. He dragged it across the marble floor, the clawed feet of the sofa squealing with friction, and finally let it rest near one of the many large windows. Sunlight was beaming through the opening in a flawless golden ray. "Perfect. Now,"

Holding in a startled squeak Vanille followed him as he grabbed her shoulders and pulled. He spun her around so she would face away from him, and then she felt the tips of his claws against her skin as he tried to untie the knot the kept her wrap in place. Without thinking she jerked away from him, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as she looked back at him in mild terror.

For a moment Tezzim was silent, looking at her, puzzled at her reaction. Then it struck him. "Oh ho-ho," he laughed. "I suppose I forgot to mention that the patron requested a nude. Heavens me, where has my mind gone?"

Vanille should have expected as much, knowing very well that Tezzim would, by law of averages, be very much like his brother. However, unlike Hassan, Tezzim could blame his voyeurism on his artistic appreciation for the human form. They were both perverts, although it seemed as though Tezzim was far less apologetic about it. It was his passion after all.

"Come now, it's not all that difficult. You don't even have to look at me."

Having to look at _him_ was at the very bottom of her list of concerns.

"Don't be so shy, little one," one step forward closed the gap between them, a distance he seemed to glide over, and he curled his finger beneath her chin. "You're beautiful. Don't hide it. Now, would you like to undress yourself or should I do it?"

She inched away from him again, silently giving her answer. With her back to him, chewing on her bottom lip, knowing he was watching, she undressed. Her hands shook the entire time, and he licked at his fangs with the tip of his tongue. Again, he had to admit that his brother had very good taste.

With her arms across her breasts and her face reddened with nervous heat, she turned to face him. She didn't like the look on his face, how the slits were almost too narrow to see and one fang hooking on the edge of his smirk.

"Yes, very nice." he hissed. "Now, over here,"

She followed him to the sofa, forcing back the horrible sick feeling that coursed under her skin.

_Just turn it off._ She chanted to herself. _Just turn the feelings off, let your mind go somewhere else. Think of home. _

And somehow that seemed to work. The shaking eased, the heat subsided, but only just so. Still, every little bit helped.

"Let's see," Tezzim encouraged her down onto the sofa, pushing against her legs and shoulders so she would stretch across the cushions. "Put your arm here...rest your head like this...hmm," and it went like this for a handful of minutes until he was happy. Now she was turned at the waist so that most of her upper body rested against the back and crook of the sofa's arm. One elbow propped up beside her, the other draped across the frame at the top. One knee was drawn up and at rest, the other extended and with her toes nearly touching the floor. Posed this way, everything that was meant to be kept private about the human body was exposed and clearly in view.

"Perfect." Tezzim tugged at his chin. "Wait, one last thing,"

There was a large wooden chest near the foot of his bed, and he went for it with an artist's zeal, like he needed whatever he was looking for before the muse left him. He threw the top of it open and dove in, shoveling his way through its contents. With a triumphant "Ah-hah!" he straightened, carrying a long stretch of fine emerald silk in his arms.

"Just hold still." he demanded in an excited hush as he carefully, contemplatively draped it over her. He was particular not to cover her body, but wound it just so around her legs, beneath her, and around her shoulders and one arm, both ends gracing the floor. Then Tezzim took a step back, the slits of his eyes flexing at how the sunlight caught her skin and the dyed silk. _Now_ it was perfect.

"Oh-ho-ho yes," he purred, his palms pressed together in front him. "Amala, please mind the door. I don't want to be bothered unless it's my brother or the doctor."

Vanille hadn't seen or even sensed the bondswoman in the room. She had been in some shadowed corner near his bed, completely still and silent. Even when she looked around Tezzim's room she hadn't caught a glimpse of her. Now she watched as the vampire strode across the floor without a sound. Tall, slender, ripped from head to toe, and with a near fully shaved head save for a long tail of jet black hair. Amala left the room without even acknowledging the human's presence. What else was hiding in this man's room that she didn't know about.

"All right," Tezzim said with finality, "let's begin." He pulled his easel and paints closer to the sofa and then began straight away as he sat on a stool. His brow furrowed, his eyes intense as they shifted back and forth between the canvas and his model.

_Just think of home_. She kept telling herself. _Turn the feelings off and think of home_. It was the only thing keeping her as still as the artist liked. She distanced herself from what was going on as she focused on the far wall, the fear, the disgust, it all disappeared. And for the next few hours, one could describe it as feeling dead inside. It was better, considering the alternative. Cramp in her backside notwithstanding.

It was late afternoon when Tezzim stood up from his stool, a brush tucked behind each ear, one between his teeth, and another in his fingers as he pulled at his chin again. He contemplated the portrait, taking it all in as a finished work. Was he satisfied?

"Indeed..." he hummed, hooking a fang on his lip. "Yes...I do believe my patron will be pleased." and he smiled. "You may move now."

Something popped when Vanille sat up, blood rushing into once numb body parts as she stretched. Clutching the fabric to her she went about gathering her clothes, wanting to be dressed again as soon as possible.

"Ah, tut-tut," Tezzim raised his hand, his slitted eyes settled heavily on the servant. "I didn't say you could do that, now did I?"

Vanille froze, still crouching as she reached for the wrap that lay in a pile. She watched him, feeling the terror creeping back until his gaze went back to his finished painting. He dipped the tip of the claw on his pinky in the blob of crimson paint and then signed the portrait in his typical fashion, a triquatra with his initials in the center. Then he nodded one last time, putting his paint stained brushes into a jar of water that rested on the floor. He stepped around the easel, snatching up Vanille's clothes once he was close enough. Then he grabbed one end of the length of silk and pulled it with him, returning it to its proper place.

He came back to her after that with slow, almost stalking steps. "Allow me,"

Vanille bit her bottom lip as she straightened, keeping her eyes up while Tezzim knelt down at her feet. He wanted to dress her, but had absolutely no intention of doing so straight away. He had done some fine work painting her, now he wanted to appreciate her a little more closely. You know, treat himself. He started at the bottom, finding an odd fascination with her dainty feet and toes, and then eased up from there. Fine legs, smooth and well toned thighs, he allowed his hands to ease all over.

"By the saints," he sighed, "you feel so warm."

Vanille felt her fingers curling into tight fists, her teeth tightening on her lip.

Tezzim pressed himself against her, his head against her belly as his arms circled her hips and pulled her to him. He could hear her heart beat, feel the heavy vein in her abdomen pulsing as well as the swift rise and fall of breath surging through her. He couldn't resist the urge to smooth his large hands over her legs again, letting them settle on her backside, claws pointing a little and making her flinch.

Tezzim laughed quietly, his tongue between his teeth as he grinned. Then he stood up, straightening until he dwarfed the human, still smiling as his hands dragged behind. His claws tickled the swell of the underside of her breasts, and he watched with silent glee as the nipples hardened, her body becoming suddenly treacherous.

"Tell me," he purred, the lids of his serpentine eyes lowering. "Does big brother touch you like this?"

For a brief, miniscule second her heart stopped, her breath hitching. Blood rushed into her face, reddening her cheeks.

"Come now, answer me. Does he?" his smile had faded, denoting the sincerity in his demand.

She screwed her eyes shut, turning her head away from him. "Yes."

Tezzim hooked his lip with a single fang once again. "That's what I thought...does it make you feel good?"

"No." there was no hesitation.

"Oh, is that so?" he shook his head after a moment. "That's too bad. What about me, then?"

Vanille tensed when she felt his grip around her tighten, pressing her naked body to his. She could feel his erection prodding against her, hot and imposing through his silk pants.

"Don't I make you feel good?"

"No," her voice was breaking.

"Now, now," he cautioned, "don't lie to me, little one. It doesn't suit you."

She wasn't lying, would swear up and down that she wasn't. Tezzim knew it too, but thought it would be fun to screw with her a little. Figuratively speaking. At least for now.

"I can hear your body calling out to me." he whispered, having dipped his head so his mouth was closer to her hear. "I can see you blushing, feel you warm to my touch...does that not feel good?"

"_No_," she protested again.

His hand slid down her back and cupped her buttocks, forcing her hips forward. Vanille shuddered, trying to hold back a gasp as the chill of his skin enveloped her. But, somehow, his finely tuned ears found it, caught the slight hiss of air in her lungs.

"There it is again, that nasty little fib," Tezzim pressed his lips to her throat, dwelling oh so briefly over the marks his brother had left. "You humans tend to be so ridiculous. Ignoring your instincts."

No, she wasn't. Her instincts were telling her to flee, to get the fuck out of here and go hide in the deepest hole Gran Pulse could offer. But she couldn't, he was holding her too tightly. She couldn't even turn her head, her cheek pressed flush to his chest. Then she shivered, the screaming of her instincts growing louder as his claws twined in her hair, scratching at her scalp.

"Perhaps this is why it is so easy for us to prey on your kind. You allow yourselves to be so vulnerable. Then again, I kind of like that." he smiled into her hair. "The thought of holding someone's life in my hand...thrilling."

But that was how predators worked, and once necessity failed to entertain them, they found enjoyment in the hunt itself, not in sating their hunger.

Tezzim shrugged after moment and then knelt down again, finally doing what he intended to being with. With a practiced flurry of hands he dressed her, amused at her confusion towards his sudden change in behavior.

"You may go, and thank you for your help."

For a moment she simply stood there, awestruck with her mouth slightly ajar. She felt like she could breathe again, and took his permission before he had the chance to change his mind. She strode across the floor with as much hurry as she could muster without going at a full sprint.

"Oh, and one more thing,"

The soles of her bare feet squeaked on the marble as she skid to a sudden, terrified halt.

"Next time," he began, "you _will_ tell me the truth."

She didn't answer and continued on, refusing to stop again even if he ordered her to. She needed to get as far away from him as possible.

The bloodchief only grinned to himself as he went about the room, now looking for something new to occupy himself with.

_(II)_

"You look fine, stop worrying over it." Fang rolled her eyes, keeping her attention on the cubs that were playing at her feet.

"I'm practically naked!" Light snapped. "Let me borrow your sari,"

"Why?"

"Just until I get my clothes back."

"And what makes you think I would be any more at ease in my skivvies than you?"

"I dunno, you just look the type," Lightning felt vulnerable, out of place, and unable to come up with a better answer than that.

Fang laughed. "Would you just stop your whining? Really."

"You're friend is right." Shilo seemed to appear out of nowhere, putting his massive hand atop Light's head, making her jump. "You've nothing to be shy about. In fact, I think it suits you."

Lightning simply scowled, not saying another word knowing it would serve no purpose. It wouldn't stop the lions and their cubs from staring, and it wouldn't make her discomfort go away. So she just put her eyes to the ground and pretended they weren't there, as little good as it did.

Teh'Han sat nearby, having just finished dressing the boar creature with assistance from some of the older cubs so that some could be cooked, whilst the rest was eaten raw by the rest of the pride. All the while the lionesses that he hunted with were cleaning the blood off of him. And by clean, I mean they licked the red stain away. In true feline fashion, the Leonin used their tongue as both washcloth and grooming tool. Han took it in stride, accustomed to it by now. Sure, it felt like warm, wet, sandpaper, but he bore it without complaint. It had been strange the first few times, it had made him suspicious of the lions possibly acquiring a taste for him, but that steadily changed. Thankfully they didn't expect him to reciprocate the action.

They laved and nuzzled him lovingly, purring to show their happiness in seeing him again after so long. As much as he enjoyed the attention, his focus wasn't on the half dozen females surrounding him. It was far elsewhere. As much as he told himself not to do it, he did it anyway. He did it in swift glances, false distractions and stray thoughts that diverted his gaze aside. He kept looking at Lightning, finding it more and more difficult to stop.

Han wanted to blame it on her attire and his natural feelings as a lonely man. She was beautiful, and with so much of her bare how could he _not_ want to look? But that could typically be remedied by thinking of his wife, forcing himself into a bad mood, and eventually forgetting about it entirely. It wasn't working this time. That was very unusual, almost frightening. He hadn't felt like this about a woman in so long...it was nigh on terrifying. But he couldn't stop watching, not until by some off chance that Fang looked at him at the same moment he was looking at Lightning again. He recoiled, twisting his head away, but knew she'd seen him.

Fang grinned, almost snickered. She _had_ seen him. "Too cute."

"What?" Lighting looked at her, one eyebrow lifted.

"Oh nothing," she fibbed convincingly as she held a cub in her lap.

"You're a bad liar, you know that?"

"And you're an uptight granny," Fang shook her head. "_Bah deh roh_." she shrugged.

"What's that mean?" Lightning was scowling again, having a feeling that she was the target of a joke she wasn't entirely aware of.

"Nothing you need to worry about right now." she resisted the urge to laugh again. Fang watched as another cub crept around behind her, stalking something she wasn't sure of right away. Then Light cringed, flinching as the youngster clawed his way ungracefully up onto her shoulders.

"Ow," she reached for the young lion's scruff, trying to pull him down but only serving to get herself scratched some more.

"Don't be so rough with him, he's just curious." Fang scolded, as if she were the kitten's mother.

Lightning frowned in response, just catching the cub as he tumbled over her shoulder. It looked up at her with awestricken, bright amber eyes, not blinking as the blackness in the middle fluxed. It swatted at her hair, testing for the human's reaction, doing it again when she did nothing. When his claws snagged a few strands of hair he tried to pull it to his open mouth, only then did she react to him.

She picked him up under the arms much like Fang had before and held him, the cub looking at her now a little confused. After a moment the cub decided he didn't like the way she held him and started squirming, lashing out with his feet and trying to bite her hands. His teeth couldn't find its mark, but his feet reached just far enough where the claws hooked onto a stretch of pelt and tore right through it, causing the fur covering her breasts to fall away.

Without thinking Lightning clutched the cub to her chest to cover herself. The Leonin child only squirmed that much more, now screeching for its mother. Fang started to laugh like mad.

"Ouch, quit it," she demanded. The cub twisted hard, putting his paws against her chest and then opening his mouth. "Don't bite that!" but he did it anyway. It forced her to drop the cub, which ran away on all fours and hissing.

"You okay?" Fang's face was red and tears were threatening at the corners of her eyes as she gathered her composure. "He didn't bite it off, did he?"

"Shut up." Lightning tried to cover herself while smearing the pinprick droplets of blood that had welled from the new teethmarks on the side of her right breast. It was already starting to burn and throb a little. "What the hell am I going to do now?" she growled to herself searching for the lost pelt.

"I dunno, but I think I see a couple of strapping young males over there that would love to help you find out."

She didn't even bother to look up and verify what she said. "I hate you."

Light finally found it and tried her best to tie off where the cub had cut it, not liking at all how the new arrangement seemed to make her breasts look bigger by pressing them closer together. She couldn't wait to get her own clothes back. Which, unfortunately, wouldn't be for a while longer yet. Not until after they had finished eating.

The boar was combined with some fresh herbs and sweet grasses that grew wild around the pride's camp, and that helped one get past the toughness of the meat. Not that it wasn't good, just a bit troublesome to chew. The lions, naturally, had no problem with it at all. Once it was completely gone, down to the bones, the party thought it best to start on the road once again. They had stayed too long already.

"I hate to go," Han said to Shilo as he stood.

"I'm sure you do. But don't be sad," and the lion put his big hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm coming too."

"What? Why?"

"Don't you want me?" the Leonin almost looked hurt.

"No, no, it isn't that, but," Teh'Han searched his mind for an excuse.

"My wives can manage things while I'm away, it's not a problem. Besides," his feline eyes slid to settle on the other humans for a moment, "I could only be of help."

Teh'Han chuckled, feeling the point the lion was trying to make. "You're too generous, _ae mot_. Far too generous." and thus relented. "How will I ever repay you?"

"We can talk about that later. Until then, let us press on."

The party found its last member beside the chocobos, "keeping watch" as he said. They all knew he was frightened of the Leonin, you could be blind and still see it, so they didn't press him further than that.

They urged the chocobo's on at a feverish pace, a pace that the satyr and the Leonin managed to keep up with on foot. There was a great deal of ground to cover before the ever encroaching night fell over them, and the terrain ahead would prove to be their greatest test so far.

Ahead, on the horizon burning with coming sunset, rose a sort of black cloud. And I mean black. Pitch black, dead of night black, as in no light can escape it. It was a solid darkness that seemed to hover there, growing as they drew closer.

Dreadwood.

The cruelest stretch of trees Gran Pulse clutched to its earthen bosom, it stretched for miles in every direction, including up and down. You see, the wood grew out of the belly of a gaping chasm, supposedly bottomless, and even so it grew easily fifty feet or more out of the chasm's maw. It was dark within the confines of the wood, only the smallest pinpricks of light piercing the thick canopy. The only way to navigate through Dreadwood was very carefully, and along the only path that stretched from one end to the other side. It was but a bridge formed out of a mass of branches that had somehow grown together in such density that one could walk across it with very little worry. The only real trouble in that was finding the bridge to begin with.

"Doesn't that look pleasant." Fang looked from end to end, almost daunted by the size of the trees.

"Wow," Hope was fascinated by it.

"Woods so deep you have to wonder what's inside," Light said in passing, mostly to herself. She didn't like the look of the place, didn't like the deep darkness that lay before them.

"I've heard stories about this place," Bard said warily, his ears flat like his fuzzy brow. "So dark...said teh be a gateway teh hell itself. Supposedly somthin' is livin' in there, some kinda spirit guardian keeping the trees from bein' cut down...I dinnae ken it was real."

"_Ak_." Teh'Han said.

"Come again?"

"The Dreadwoodsman." Shilo explained. "The forest is alive with the soul of the Ak who keeps it. No one's ever seen him and been heard from again."

"How do you know its there?" Lightning thought to prod. She felt the need to roll her eyes. Damn primitive folktales.

"There would be no story if it wasn't."

"So how do we get through?" Fang needed to know lest she get nervous.

"Not often do folks pass through these woods," Shilo began, squinting as to see the treeline a little clearer, "but I would think that those who do wouldn't want to lose their way once they found it. Perhaps the entrance to the bridge is marked."

And it was. They found a stone on the ground that was just big enough to trip over with an "X" chiseled in it, clearly not something that happened without intelligent intervention. Fang slid from her chocobo's back, taking her spear in her hand and advancing on the treeline. She took two cautious steps within the shadows, prodding at the ground with the bladed end. By the feel of it, the trail went on, so this had to be the way.

"Probably best to lead the birds on foot from here." she suggested as she returned the spear to its place against her back.

"I dinnae ken they'll go," Bard said aloud, seeing that the birds were starting the warble and twitter with nerves. "I'm willin' teh agree with 'em."

Teh'Han came down from the saddle, going through one of the saddle bags with something. He pulled out a cloth bundle, unwrapping it and stuffing his tobacco pouch back inside while he used the cloth it was wrapped in to cover the bird's eyes. Now it would follow regardless of where it was going. Its only instinct was to trust its handler.

He looked at them, quizzical. "_Gul'fahs?_" and then he went on, disappearing into the dark.

"Best not let him leave without us." and Shilo followed, Fang entering the wood close behind him.

"What did he say?" Hope poked his head over Light's shoulder.

"How the fuck should I know?" she shrugged. "Let's go."

Inside the clutches of Dreadwood was just as dark as it appeared from the outside to be. Keeping their eyes on the bridge of branches was top priority, and it was becoming more difficult to do as what little light there was coming through the canopy began to fade. What would they do once it became too dark?

The branches creaked beneath their weight, Bard jumping at the sounds thinking their pathway would give at any second. The chocobos weren't very happy either, hard pressed to follow even though they couldn't see. Perhaps that wasn't helping the matter as much as everyone hoped.

Aside from exceptions caused by the human presence, Dreadwood was quiet. Far too quiet than any forest should be. No birds, insects, small creepy crawly things, not even a breeze. It was like they were the only things alive in the entire forest. With growth this old and this dense, that should be something near impossible to believe. But it appeared to be true all the same.

They traversed the bridge for over an hour, until the light was completely gone. They weren't even half way through this mess, yet they had no choice but to stop. The chocobos bedded down, still jittery and uneasy. Lightning found a flashlight in her saddlebag, switching it on so everyone could see. Just enough anyway. Shilo tracked the spot of light for several minutes like any cat would track a shiny object, his eyes darting with it until he forced himself to stop before he pounced on it. Wouldn't want the bridge collapsing under him, would we?

Hope suddenly shivered, rubbing his upper arms furiously with his hands. "Damn, it's cold."

"You sure it's not just you?" Lightning didn't feel a thing. Maybe he was just imagining it.

"A fire wouldn't hurt anything, would it? We could pour some water on the bridge to keep it from burning through." Fang thought aloud.

"I feel fine." Bard added his two cents, sounding more than eager to do so out of some unspoken fear.

"That's because you have more hair than the three of us combined." Fang smiled. "I don't imagine you or Mr. Kitty have much to worry about, but we mere mortals tend not to fare so well against the shivers."

"Uh bu-bu-bu-bu-,"

"What is it?"

"What about the Ak?" Bard sounded almost too frightened to speak of it.

Fang smiled, putting her hand on his head, her palm resting between his horns. "Don't worry, nanny, I'll protect you."

"I'm not a nanny!" He swatted her hand away. "But yeh can still protect me...if yeh must." he wasn't going to waste a perfectly good opportunity to keep his ass from being in a sling.

When the fire was finally lit, the woods didn't appear as oppressive, like the light was pushing those towering timbers just a little ways away, enough to not feel like you were being smothered. At least it felt like enough breathing room for them to sleep, which didn't take long at all.

Shilo was the only one awake for a time, three hours to be particular. The Leonin watched as Teh'Han's eyes opened and he lifted his head.

"Still sleeping so poorly?" he whispered low, not wanting to wake anyone.

Han nodded. "Just a habit I suppose."

The cat frowned. "So...it never got better, did it?"

"Hm? Oh...no, I guess not. I didn't really expect it to."

"Didn't we help?" Shilo almost pleaded the question.

Teh'Han looked at his friend with an apologetic scowl. "Yes, you did. You were all very kind to me."

"Then why did you leave? What did we do?"

Han shook his head. "Nothing, Shilo, really. It wasn't you. I just," he couldn't find the words. "I just...I felt like I needed to."

"Then why not say goodbye? I thought you and I were closer friends than that."

"We are...I guess I just didn't know how to explain it then." and he really wasn't explaining it now. He was telling a bold faced lie. As much as he hated to, it was less painful than the truth.

"Well, yeah, talking never was your strong suit." Shilo laughed a little. "But...I would have understood. You shouldn't have just disappeared."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Is this why you came, to grill me?"

"No, no," Shilo's mane tossed as he shook his head. "I honestly believe these Cocoon folks wouldn't make that far without the extra hand. Speaking of which,"

Han's expression changed to one of curiosity, uncertain of how they had anything to do with their conversation.

"What do you think of that one there," he inched his head to the side, "the one with the funny hair?"

"They're both fairly funny looking if you ask me."

"You know who I'm talking about." His amber eyes narrowed. "I saw the way you looked at her."

Han buzzed his lips, refusing to tolerate such a statement. "You can't be serious. The woman was almost naked, what could you expect?" he'd been a hermit after all.

"I had that same look when I saw my first wife. There's something going on," he purred in the strangest way, a way that Han was _not_ used to.

"I can't stand her." Han grimaced. "She's a bitch."

"So I heard. Still, maybe that's what you need."

"Huh?"

"You need a woman." if anyone knew anything about the perks of having one of those it was Shilo. He had a harem of them.

Han ran a hand through his hair, shrugging hard. "Maybe I do...but I don't want one. I had the one I wanted." and she was long gone.

Shilo frowned again. "I didn't mean to pry. I just...I care about you, friend. I do. You're my brother."

"And I thank you for that." Han chanced a small smile. "You have no idea. Still, let's just leave that alone...we have a long day ahead of us." and he laid down, his back to the lion.

It was quiet for several hours, quiet and still as the fire flickered in solitude. The party was sleeping soundly, barely moving as their slumber was deep. Even the chocobos had finally quieted down. Outside of the sanctum of the woods, the moon stood vigil.

The fire crackled and popped as it began to fade, the flames shrinking slowly. If you watched carefully enough, you could see Shilo's rounded ears tracking the tiny sounds, the furry lobe jerking back and forth of its own will.

_Pop_.

Twitch.

_Snap_.

Twitch.

_Thump_.

Twitch.

Wait a minute. Fire doesn't go thump.

When it happened again, sounding just a bit closer, the Leonin's eyes parted slightly, a shimmer of gold catching the light. They slid from left to right, looking for anything that shouldn't be there, and closed again when he saw nothing out of place. With a quiet sigh he went back to sleep.

_THUMP_.

The chocobos lifted their heads, startled and chirping, the feathers atop their heads standing straight up. One squawked out loud, enough to fully wake Shilo, and for Lightning and Teh'Han to stir.

_THUMP-THUMP...CHA-CRACK_.

The bridge shuddered beneath them. The chocobos jumped to their feet, looking madly about for a way to escape. Teh'Han quickly went to them, grabbing their long locks of hair to keep them in place. They squealed and kicked, refusing to stay any longer. He demanded in Pulsian that they be still.

_CHA-CRASH...CHA-CRASH...CHA-CRASH_.

The bridge began shaking in a regular cadence, waking everyone out of a dead sleep with the exception of Bard.

"What the hell is that?" Lightning drew her gunblade.

Hope was looking around, wary, his arms crossed over his chest and clutching the razor rings at his sides. Fang stood completely still, perhaps listening closely in hopes of discovering what it was through the sounds it was making.

Bard rolled over under his blanket, onto his back with one arm above his head. He had been, until now, oblivious to the sudden goings on, but then he chanced to open his eyes. Whatever it was had now emerged from beneath the bridge, out of the consuming darkness to show itself in the glow of the dwindling fire.

It had been climbing up the trees from the bottom of the forest, however far that was. Up it came step by step with tree root fingers and moss covered limbs pulling it higher. Its woody joints creaked and groaned under its weight. Its gigantic foot was the first thing to reveal itself, coming down haplessly onto the bridge, nearly crushing the satyr underfoot. Bard twisted onto his hands and knees just in time to scramble away. The bridge shook as a loud _BANG_ resounded through Dreadwood.

In the shadows it was easy to make out the woodsman's eyes, great glowing orbs of white that seemed to hover in mid air, though they were surrounded by sockets of gnarled branches. It set the woodsman's face in a permanent snarl, its mouth naught but a gaping hole beneath its phantasmal eyes. He lumbered onto the bridge, the structure starting to bow. As one of its great hands crushed onto the fire, snuffing the light entirely, it made a sound. It erupted from the open maw, from behind the fangs of wooden fingers, and it was a mighty hiss. A commingling of rustling leaves, whipping vines, and the skittering of countless crawling insects. It was like the gates of hell itself had fallen open and yawned.

The chocobos bolted, yanking themselves free of Teh'Han's grip and striding down the path that everyone could no longer see. Their only sources of light now were the Ak's eyes and Lightning's flashlight.

"He wants us out of the woods," Shilo snarled. "We had best oblige him." Leonin could see very well in the dark, and he was ready to fight or flee. Preferably fight.

"That's fine by me," Fang nodded, starting to move away from the woodsman's advancing, earthshaking steps. Everyone began to move away but, to their surprise, the woodsman quickened his steps to initiate pursuit.

The living legend didn't just want them out of his forest, he wanted them dead. They had dared bring fire into his home! The great Ak hissed again, this time the sound was supported by a deep and angry bellow that seemed to come from the very heart of the wood. It surrounded them, and the trees appeared to close in on them, the tops of them bending down as if to snatch them up. As if the woodsman wasn't close enough to do it himself. Hope felt the tip of the Ak's wooden finger, a digit the size of a tree trunk, touch the sole of his boot. That's how close this thing was.

_BAM! BAM! BAM!_ Went the woodman's footsteps along the bridge. It was shaking almost too greatly for the humans to escape. The threat of falling off and knowing for themselves how deep the chasm stretched was growing.

With the flick of her wrist the gunblade changed, and Lightning turned on her heel to face the woodsman. With the flashlight in one hand she unloaded several rounds into the folktale's face, causing the great creature to pause and recoil with a shrill cry. Then down came its hand with means to crush the annoying insect flat.

At the last second, Lightning felt something circle her waist and yank her backwards, just out of the woodsman's reach. As she tried to recollect herself, slightly confused by the sudden motion, she felt something pass over her head and against her side. In the spotlights of the Ak's eyes she could see Shilo's shadow, and the Leonin was starting up the elemental's arm.

"Come on, let's go!" came Fang's frantic demand as she tugged on Lightning's arm.

The Ak was very unhappy now, having two of the invaders crawling on him, cutting into him with weapons and claws. They were moving so fast. Out of his mossy body, and out of the forest itself, sprang dozens of fibrous tendrils, winding vines that seemed to move of their own accord. They snapped and writhed and clutched at the Ak's irritations who absolutely refused to quit. Hope cut through advancing vines with his razor rings, Lightning with her gunblade, and Fang with her lance, but Dreadwood wasn't going to let them go. Certainly not so easily.

Shilo went for the Ak's middle, a nest of twisting roots that wove through the creature's entire body, giving it shape. With claws and fangs he squeezed inside, finding just enough room within the innards to start ripping away at it. But whenever something was severed, something else grew in its place. All the while vines cracked against his fur, leaving livid welts all over him, and tried to wrap about his limbs and neck. Teh'Han wasn't faring much better.

Up on the Ak's shoulders, Han was trying to keep the creature most occupied with him so Shilo might find a way to fell it. He was already covered in welts and lacerations, ignoring to pain as he clutched his ax tight in his hand. Han hacked away at the thick roots of Ak's neck, making the tree god swing his arms over his head, trying to strike him. He could hear Shilo roaring, knowing the Leonin was doing his best. Han needed to buy him just a little more time. With some doing, some careful foot placement, Teh'Han placed himself atop the Ak's head, and brought his ax down between its eyes.

Ak howled and thrashed, his harried steps threatening to send him tumbling off the bridge. Gripping some moss and with his ax in his teeth, Teh'Han slid down the front of the woodsman, stopping at his midsection, at the mess of vines.

"Get out of there, Shilo!" he cried as clearly as he could manage with wood and leather in his mouth. After a tense moment, still holding on for dear life as the Ak twisted about, Teh'Han saw Shilo's clawed paw work its way out. Without second thought he let go of the moss, snatching his friend's hand as he fell and yanking him free. They hit the bridge hard, but none the worse for wear.

"I can still take him!" Shilo jumped back to his feet.

"No, come on. We have a chance, let's go." and Teh'Han still held him while inching away.

"Leonin don't run!" Shilo ripped his paw out Han's hand and advanced on the woodsman once more, going for the elemental's face. Somehow Han knew he would do that.

It only took a few seconds for him to decide there was no arguing the matter, so he joined in, going for the legs and starting off by severing one of the woodsman's toes.

Author's Note: Not a lot to say about this one, I think it turned out fairly well. A little more on Teh'Han's back story, though not enough to give a whole lot away. I'm sure some of you have figured some things out, but that's what I had planned. And again, thanks "lazymio" and "Akamura" for your reviews. It's really driving for me to get such involved feedback from my readers. So thanks all the same for your input. And "ae mot" means "my friend".


	19. Chapter XVIII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

"Tell me."

Dash was silent to the millionth-time repeated request of his charge. All he wanted to do right now was read his book.

"Tell me."

He hoped if he was quiet, held off for just a bit longer, Helm would give up and shut up.

"Tell me."

Helm sat just beside him on the bed. Perfect slapping distance.

"Tell me."

Dash snapped his head to look at him with such irritated fury, the slits of his eyes near invisible. "Would you shut your yap! I'm not telling you squat, so stop asking!"

Helm cringed, recoiling, but hiding a amused smirk behind his clawed hand. "Can I guess?"

"Can I put my boot in your ass?"

Helm actually thought about it a moment. "Do a man a favor and lube it up with lard first."

"For saint's sake!" Dash slapped his book closed. "Do you not have anything else better to occupy yourself with?"

"No. I was actually having a bit of fun just sittin' here...pesterin' ya."

"Go pester someone else!"

"But...you're the only person I can pester without getting my teeth kicked in." his tone was almost child-like, pitiful.

"That fact can be rectified." Dash's voice had quieted, flattened, and become lethally serious.

"Come on, old man. Can't I have a hint?" he nigh on begged. "Can I guess?"

"Go suck your thumb, why don't you!" Dash stood, unable to take it any longer. He tossed the book on the bed, hobbling across the room towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Helm was trying his damnedest not laugh.

"Out, before I stake you myself."

"Come on, I'm not all that bad, am I?"

"Bad enough to make me want to gamble." Dash admitted, a vice he had always cringed away from before.

"Oh? Yes, that's right, the races are this afternoon. Care if I join you?"

"Yes!" and then Dash was gone, having slammed the door upon his exit.

_(-)_

Fang woke in stages, the onset of a mild hangover being among the first sensation to creep back to her. There was a tightness in her hips hinting that she had slept in a funny position, twisted up and tangled in the sheets. She didn't want to wake up yet. She wasn't ready to face the headache, the head-to-toe stiffness, and she certainly didn't want to face the guy who bashed her face in with a chair...or did she dream that?

Fang pulled her forearm across her head after turning to lay flat on her back, groaning as she forced herself into awareness. She only bothered to open her eyes when she realized that something was smelling very good. It was warm, inviting.

Bard turned his head, his amber eyes falling on hers as he sat at the foot of the bed. He had a cup of something in his hand.

"Wassat," she mumbled sleepily.

"Coffee. Care for a swig?"

Fang didn't answer, but held out her other hand as if to answer.

"Ah-ah, sit up or you'll choke."

"Damn nanny." she twisted over onto her stomach in protest, but her defiance didn't last. It smelled too damn good. With another grumbled she sat up, one hand raking her scalp and the other reaching for the cup. "Why does my face hurt?" she needed to know if she did indeed dream that.

"I'm afraid yeh took a nasty spill last night."

"Oh, yeah." now she remembered. She had been blubbering like a fool, crying and carrying on, and tripped over herself. "Sorry you had to see that."

"It's nothin'." he dismissed. "I know you're not exactly feelin' at your best here recently."

"Thanks for understanding." she took a cautionary sip, her eyes closing slowly with a comforted sigh as the warm brew eased down her scratchy throat. "I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

"Well," he tapped his chin, feigning reminiscence.

Fang braced herself.

"Yeh called me baby, shoved your tongue in my mouth and humped me 'til midnight...if'n yeh can call that stupid."

Fang almost spat out the small mouthful of coffee she had taken in. She put her hand over mouth, swallowing before she obeyed the initial instinct to laugh. "Gods, tell me you're kidding?"

"Of course I am," he confessed as if she didn't need to ask such a question. "Heavens, woman, I ken you had a wee bit more confidence in me."

"So your saying you would've stopped me if I tried?"

He was quiet, a gentle redness in his cheeks. "You was drunk, Miss Fang. It wouldn't have been right."

"That's not what I asked." she took another sip, her eyes forward.

He was quiet again, the redness growing. "I...I wasn't about teh let yeh sully yourself so, Miss Fang."

She laughed again, softly this time. Her eyes slid to settle on him and she held her smile. "You're all right, Bard."

"Oh, why thank yeh." he let out a breath as if relieved, the blush easing away from his cheeks. "Um, mayhaps yeh be wantin' more of that coffee?"

"Oh aye," she nodded, handing him the empty cup. "Gimme a chance to make myself decent."

"You're gonna need more time then?"

"Shush."

And the satyr snickered as he eased out into the hallway. When he came back he found her fully clothed and running her fingers through her hair to undo any knots. It was actually kind of fascinating for him to realize she didn't have to do anything to that wild mane of hers to get it to sit that way. When she was aware of him he handed one of the cups to her. He had brought two back with him, still wanting one himself.

"Anything interesting gone on yet this morning?" she asked, plopping down on the bed again.

"Eh, not really. Miss Lightning and the old fella stepped out an hour or so ago. Other than that it's been rather quiet."

"Wassat now? Light and Han? Where'd they go?" she seemed incredibly interested, her eyebrows near her hairline.

"I dinnae know. All I ken is that they left together."

"Oh," she started giggling low in her throat, suspiciously so. "That's too good. I knew it."

"Yeh knew what?"

"Nothing to worry about." she was still grinning like a happy cat, but didn't appear to be in a hurry to divulge anything going through her mind.

The two were silent for a time, enjoying their coffee. Bard started bouncing his leg, maybe due to how the lack of conversation made him feel a bit awkward. What was he still doing here, anyway? She was okay now. Well...at least she wasn't crying.

"Were you in here all night?"

The question startled him, coffee sloshing over the lip of his cup and onto his shirt with the sudden pause of his hand. "M-maybe."

She nodded with a smile. "You're not stalkin' me, are you?"

"I'm not what? Um...no, I dinnae think so. I just...thought yeh might've needed a wee lookin' after. I worry for you sometimes, yeh see."

She nodded again. Although she was inclined to believe it was more than just sometimes.

"Um...might I ask yeh a personal question?"

Fang lifted one eyebrow, looking at him sideways through narrowed eyes. "Maybe."

"Well, I'm just curious...from what I've seen, I've been wonderin'...you and your sister aren't blood relations, are yeh?"

"You guessed?" her expression softened.

"I'm afraid I failed teh see the family resemblance." he admitted with a sheepish laugh. "Not that it bothers me or anythin'...I was just curious."

"It's fine." she shook her head, taking a sip afterwards. "She's really my adopted sister. She was orphaned when she was...maybe two. My dad took her in."

"You grew pretty close, did yeh?"

"Very."

"What happened to her folks?"

"Some super flu." Fang's brow lowered, darkening her expression. "It just kind of snuck up on us out of nowhere...people just started dying. Took my mother."

"I'm sorry." Bard shrank a little.

"Don't be. But, my father went to check Vanille and her father, her mother had died shortly after child birth...couldn't stop the bleeding. Our families had been friends for as long as I could remember. But he found her father dead, and she was crying. Dad didn't hesitate to look after her."

"Your da really was quite the man, wasn't he?"

"No one better. He treated Vanille like she was his own blood, and so did I. But it was an easy thing to do for someone who loved us like she does. I don't think there's a bad bone in that girl's body."

"Aye." Bard sighed a little. "I ken I know now why it beats yeh up so much that she's here, then."

"I suppose you do. But that reminds me," she paused, looking at him curiously. "What are you still doing here, anyway?"

"Oh, well," he didn't expect the question, and didn't have an answer right away. "I dinnae see any really reason teh go. Besides, I'm neck deep in this as it is."

"Guess that's true. Sorry for dragging you down with us."

"Ach, no." he waved a dismissive hand. "Yeh dinnae drag me, I walked. I owed you lot anyhow."

"Still...thanks for hanging around."

"My pleasure. Although," he started, "I had been giving some thought to stayin' here. At least I did at first."

"What changed?"

"Just dinnae want to. Not my kind of place. I'm more the country lad, myself."

"Why not just go back home then?"

He finished his coffee, shrugging a little as he set the cup on the floor not too close to his feet. "To be entirely honest, I dinnae have one to go back to."

Fang looked confused as well as surprised.

"Glanwood is gone, my brothers and sisters...washed away in a flash flood some six months ago. As far as I ken, I'm the only one left from there."

Fang was speechless. What do you say to that? Although, she could relate in a way. Her birthplace was no more as well, and she was one of the last remaining from a bygone era.

"Been wanderin' quiet some time, trying to find my place, a new home...that's when I got the idea to come here, thinking maybe I would find somethin'."

"But you didn't?"

"Well, yes and no." Bard leaned back onto his hands, his eyes lowered towards the floor. "As it stands...I suppose you lot are my family now. Perhaps that's what made me ask the questions I have."

She looked into his eyes, seeing no lie, only sober reminiscence and vulnerability.

"I wanted teh know...I was hopin' there might be room for me. Even if that means swallowin' down my cowardice teh see this mess through to its end."

After a quiet, tense moment, Fang just shook her head. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Pardon? I dinnae ken what yeh mean."

"Why didn't you come right out with it from the start?"

"Oh well...I dinnae ken it was that important. I mean...there's nothin' to be done to change my situation, but all of you were tryin' so hard to change something while yeh could. It would've been rather selfish of me to try and disrupt that."

Fang found herself smiling, reaching over to muss his hair. "You're all right, Bard. For a sissy."

"I try." he laughed, the redness blooming back into his cheeks.

The two left the room together after that, going downstairs to return their cups to the bar, as well as figuring it was too late in the day to stay in bed any longer. They found Raul doing his usual morning routine of inventory and cleaning up. His partner was nowhere to be seen, which was a cause for slight alarm. Gods only knew what Francisco was up to when out of sight.

"Where did our fearless leader and the incredible sulk meander off to this morning, Raul?" Fang asked as she slid onto a stool.

"The races, actually."

"Come again?"

"Oh yes, every year during the festival. Today we're observing Mirri the Steward and Vasgoth the Fierce."

"Care to explain?" She lifted one eyebrow.

"Mirri, more or less, established the animal economy here in Arash. We celebrate her with races and falconry, dog hunting, things of that sort."

"Fascinating. And what about that other guy?"

"Saint Vasgoth is our patron of warfare, though our city hasn't seen war in a very long time. He's mostly known for erecting the barrier wall, but he was a great warrior as well. We honor his memory with martial contests such as boxing, wrestling, archery. You know."

"Really? I know what I'm doing tonight."

"Yeh cannae be serious!" Bard protested.

"And why the hell not? I've been stuffed up in the inn for nearly two nights straight and I'm damn sick of it."

"So yeh would rather go out there and get yer face kicked in?"

"Really, nanny, I'll have you know I'm a professional face-kicker myself."

"It dinnae mean that I have teh like it!"

"I say go for it." Raul added. "There's a handsome amount of money in it. If you're good enough, that is. In fact, that's why your companions stepped out. Francisco needed a little extra scratch to finish the disguises."

"So what exactly are you planning, if you don't mind my asking?"

"We'll have to make sure it works first. No point in explaining something useless." the vampire sniffed, setting down a now clean glass.

"So where is everyone else, still in bed?" Bard thought to change the subject, not feeling comfortable with the current thoughts running through his head.

"I think the colored gentleman is, yes. I'm not too sure about the Leonin, and the young fellow has been sick all morning."

"How can you tell?" Fang looked at the barkeep with curiosity.

"We vampires have excellent ears...it sounds rather awful."

"I guess that's my fault." she laughed a little, her hand at the back of her head. "It was bound to happen eventually."

"Tainting the poor lad like that, Miss Fang," Bard scowled, "you should be ashamed."

"But I'm not." she replied plainly.

"I dinnae think so. Just thought I'd point that out." the satyr shrugged, defeated.

The inn suddenly shook, a loud bang resound through the place though muffled by the door just beside the stage. Raul's face flattened, he shrugged, and then politely excused himself to go and address the problem. Everyone knew what it was, having grown familiar to the noise by now. Francisco had gone and blown himself up. Again. Raul opened the hidden door to be greeted by a great cloud of gray smoke. Waving his hand in front of him he stepped inside.

Fang and Bard watched from the bar.

"Makes yeh wonder how the place still stands."

"Oh aye." Fang agreed.

Raul appeared some half hour later, Francisco on his arm, covered head to toe in what looked like soot. He was blacker than midnight all over, not a lick of color to him other than the deep blue of his eyes. At least he hadn't managed to make himself appear to have been shat on by a rainbow, like before. And while Raul scolded him once again, Francisco pleaded his case by saying in his favor that he only destroyed half the room this time. Yes, a big difference indeed.

It was after the smoke and dust settled that Lightning and Han returned to the inn. The two descended the stairs almost gingerly, striding across the floor to let a rather sizable bag of gold drop onto the top of the bar. Everyone present turned their eyes to it.

"Sweet teat of Amalthea," Bard gaped at it, disbelieving.

"Damn, sunshine," Fang was leaning back on the stool to have a good look. "Who'd you have to beat up to get that?"

Before Lightning could answer, Raul had stepped up in front of them, having heard but yet to see what had chimed so lovely. "It appears you did quiet well."

"Third place in the lap race." Lightning crossed her arms. "Took first on the trail."

"Congratulations."

"Will it be enough?"

"More than enough, thank you. I'll be sure to give you back what's left."

"No, keep it, we don't use that back home."

"Thank you again, that's very generous. Francisco?"

"Yes?" the other vampire lifted his darkened head.

"Go clean yourself up, you have some shopping to do." And what would have been prime opportunity for him to complain, Francisco rose from the chair and went off to do exactly as his sire said. What's to argue with a good idea?

"Who beat you on the track?" Fang wondered, seemingly unable to comprehend that anyone could out ride her.

"Some midget on a pony just as small as him," she thought back, "and another woman on this massive black stallion. That thing was a monster."

"That big?"

"Biggest I've ever seen. But it didn't take the trail very well." Lightning took a seat, rubbing her forearm across her face, wiping away a fine sheen of sweat.

"Uh-huh." Fang's tone suddenly changed, a smile creeping across her mouth. "So...you two old fogies enjoy your date?"

Han gaped at his tribal sibling, looking repulsed.

"Shut up." Lightning grumbled. "I couldn't have gotten Valkyrie from the stable without him."

"Sure, sure, I understand." Fang's tone was sly, like she knew something she shouldn't.

"You're an ass."

"Least my tits don't sag."

Lightning refused to grace that remark with a response, not in any mood to play that game right now. Han was still standing just behind her, frozen in place, still seemingly unable to fully process what Fang was suggesting. Did she accuse them of...courting? Gods forbid! Not a chance in hell!

Besides, you don't take your woman to watch her race, to watch her nearly knocked out of the saddle by an opponent too fixed on victory. No, that simply wasn't done. You take your woman riding, but not racing. Let the horse slowly amble, not gallop at speeds great enough to break one's neck.

Finally he sat down, unable to say a word about it. He looked stunned and yet, somehow guilty. Clearly he was doing nothing wrong, though I can't honestly say the same for his thoughts.

_(-)_

The master and his lady were not home, not yet. They had gone out for the afternoon, Kasa more than willing to take an opportunity to get out of the villa. That left Vanille to look after the baby, and though that had become a frequent occurrence these last couple of days, she still refused to do it alone. She asked that Donovan come by every so often, if for no other reason than to make herself feel just a bit more secure. If anything were to happen to Haddai while in her care, it could be her head.

But if there was an incident, Donovan would be there, and that gave her enough confidence to make it until the infant's mother returned.

The baby was by no means troublesome, as often was said for human children. Of course he would fuss now and again, but was quiet once placated with what he wanted, which was usually his bottle. Otherwise he was comfortably sleeping in his crib that was situated near a ray of sunshine. Still, in spite of this, Vanille found it difficult to interact with the child. She didn't want to hold him, pick him up, or even look at him if it wasn't necessary. Something about contact with the baby disturbed her, made her feel like someone was rubbing her all over with sand paper. The heebie-jeebies. After a while, though the sensation held, she simply blamed it on the difference in species and went along with it.

When Haddai was in need of something, he would squirm and grunt like any other baby, but when he wasn't attended to quickly enough, he would grind out this inhuman screech. It was strangely bird like and impossible to ignore. The first time Vanille heard it she was terrified, she thought the infant might be dying. Babies just didn't make such noise. Thankfully Donovan arrived not a moment too soon. He had exposure to vampiric children and knew straight away how to take care of it.

Now, in the late afternoon, Vanille sat in a chair beside the cradle, holding the baby as he sucked hungrily on his bottle. He nigh on guzzled down the milky pink mixture, goat's milk mixed with pig blood. Donovan was watching from where he stood, just a couple of steps away.

"It seems to come to you so naturally." he said in quiet wonder, smiling.

"I suppose." she replied somewhat flatly. She'd heard that before.

"Well, at least he doesn't fight you like he does me. He actually likes you."

Vanille didn't want the baby to like her. She wasn't going to be staying long anyhow.

"Something wrong?" he asked, suddenly noticing the distant look in her eyes. "Tired?"

"A little." she confessed. "Just letting my mind wander, really."

"You sure that's all?"

She nodded. It really was just that, though you couldn't really say her mind wandered. Wandering suggested a lack of focus, no known destination. But that wasn't the case. She kept thinking along the same line, thinking of the same faces. Fang and Hope. They were here in the city somewhere. They were here, and they were going to save her.

You would think that alone would make her happy, but she did her best to keep her reactions to a minimum. She didn't want to give the thought away, not even wanting to utter a word of it to Donovan or Beth. Vanille trusted the couple with her life, but there was no telling if they could hide her secret from their master.

"I'm fine." she assured him, even going so far as to try for a sincere smile.

"If you insist." the older man sounded less than willing to relent, but did so anyhow. Then he reached for her, tentative until she realized what he was doing. "Might I have a quick look?"

"What? Oh, yes, just a second. He's almost finished."

Donovan needed to see the stitches, check their progress. Vanille waited until Haddai did his customary grunt and shoving gesture with his pudgy arms before putting him back into his crib. Certain the baby was pacified for the time being, she returned to the doctor and presented her wrists for his inspection.

"Any pain? There doesn't appear to be any fresh bruising,"

"No. They itch from time to time though."

"That's normal. I suppose I could take them out tonight." he surmised, nodding his head in approval. Then he held both of her hands in his, looking still very concerned. "You're certain you're all right?"

"Yes." she insisted with another attempt at a smile. "Stop worrying so much."

"Can you blame me, deary? Really?"

No, she couldn't, all things considered. Perhaps he had every right to act like he did, like a father in fear of his only child's safety. It was actually somewhat comforting to know he was on her side, looking out for her when it felt like everyone else was out to get her.

"Have you been biting it again?"

Vanille looked down, torn from her thoughts by his voice. He was referring to her finger, the flesh on her knuckle still seeming mangled and inflamed.

"No, I haven't." though it looked like she had. There was a hint of yellowing around the sealed wounds that were shaped like teeth.

"Mayhaps it's gotten infected," he wondered. "I'll definitely want to look at that this evening when you come by."

"Okay." she nodded. "Um, do you know when the master will be back?"

"Oh, let me see," he checked his pocket watch. "I would imagine any time now. I suppose they went to the races, which should be long over. I don't imagine it will be much longer."

And he was right. Some quarter of an hour passed after the statement when the lord and lady of the house came into the room. Both servants stood and bent their heads until their owner excused them.

"Did you enjoy your outing, master?" Donovan asked.

"Very much. Although I'm quite positive my good lady wife appreciated it more than I." Hassan laughed.

"Indeed." Kasa agreed. "Was Haddai any trouble for you?" she smiled down at the other servant.

"No, ma'am." was Vanille's meek answer.

"How went the races, master?" Donovan loved to go when he could, and was rather disappoint not to have been allowed to this year.

"Very exciting, I wish you had been with us. Maestro Sinclaire participated this year."

"Did she? Never saw her for much of a jockey, my lord."

"I don't think anyone else did either." the bloodchief laughed. "She took the lap race rather easily."

Donovan's eyes were wide. "And the trail?"

"Some woman with pink hair; _pink hair_, had you ever heard of such a thing?"

"Afraid not, master. It sounds exciting though."

Vanille felt her heart jump slightly. She only knew one person that looked like that. Were all of them here in the city somewhere?

"You're looking much better today, I'm glad to see." Hassan looked to Vanille, noticing a greater presence of color in her face.

"Oh, th-thank you, m-master." she replied, almost blushing.

"Come, walk with me a while, then." and he held his clawed hand out to her. Her emerald gaze shifted from his hand to him and back again, hesitation clear on her face. Knowing she couldn't very well say no, she took it, following him out of the room. She didn't know that Donovan had watched them leave, his face creased with worry.

As rightly it should be.

He worried and fretted over her the rest of the day, and long into the night as he waited, hour by hour, to come and see him as he asked. When she at last arrived, some time after midnight, you can imagine his lack of surprise to see her crying. It broke his heart, although part of him was somewhat glad that she was in a better state than last time. There were some new bruises on her arms, and her backside was red and raw from the careless, repeated impact of someone's hand. A hickey on her neck darkened near old bite marks, but those were minor things.

Donovan didn't say anything, only caught her as she fell against him, sobbing. It had become almost routine by now.

_Just cry, deary...cry all you want. Just don't hurt yourself again. Go ahead and cry._

After a time he was able to sit her down, starting to rummage through his desk for something, anything she could take to calm herself. She appeared to be shaking hard enough to fall to pieces.

Vanille knew she was in his office, could feel her body sitting in the chair, but her mind was elsewhere entirely. It was stuck somehow back where she had been for last few hours, stuck in her master's bedroom.

Stuck there with him and his brother.

As Donovan gently cut away the stitches, pulling them free, she replayed the evening back in her mind, unable to stop it. The corridor, where Hassan had commented on his shame over Tezzim's behavior, his sorrow over her reaction to it, and how he never intended for it to happen in the first place. She couldn't believe a word of it, in spite of the vampire's apparent sincerity. She had heard "sorry" from him enough times.

That was when he lead her into his room, and she spied Tezzim sprawled out on his brother's bed, legs crossed and arms behind his head as he lounged into the pillows. That alone was cause enough for her alarm.

Hassan did feel guilty over what his brother had done to the girl, though I'll admit he was more upset over his not having asked permission than his actions. The bloodchief felt an obligation towards his twin, since he was denied the privileges of Hassan's status simply by being born a few minutes later. He felt the need to share everything with Tezzim, be it women or money or influence, and he had done so without fail for centuries. He had often wondered if, perhaps, he was spoiling his younger sibling. But the thought had always been brief, half lived even in his mind.

Although, Hassan came to conclude, if he was going to play with his toys so roughly, he would have to do so under his supervision from now on. The bloodchief would sit at his desk, pretending to be reading through his papers, whilst Tezzim enjoyed the perks of his brother's position.

The only rule was that he couldn't shed her blood. Otherwise the toy would be taken away.

Vanille felt herself cringe. She could still hear Tezzim, the hiss of his voice echoing through her thoughts.

_"Just look at her, brother. Isn't she the prettiest little thing? The evening sun seems to make her shimmer."_

_ "Hmm."_

_ "Might I undress her now?"_

_ "You may."_

She shivered in the chair, almost drawing her arms and legs inward with disgust.

_"So beautiful, so delicate. Might I touch her?"_

_ "You may."_

Vanille could almost feel the tips of his claws, the chilling press of his fingertips all over her. And as her eyes screwed shut, she recalled having sworn that her owner was smiling, oh so subtly from his seat. It was a game to him. It was a game for both of them, one they had played dozens of times before with dozens of other women.

_"She's so warm, brother. Isn't she?"_

_ "Hmm."_

_ "Might I kiss her?"_

_ "You may."_

The texture of his lips, the moisture, was more akin to a dead fish than a loving gesture of any kind.

_"Brother?"_

_ "Yes?"_

_ "May I fuck her? I can't hold back much longer."_

_ "Carefully."_

_ "Yes, brother."_

Vanille had forced her mind elsewhere then, for once successful, and was just barely aware of his hips bumping into her backside from behind.

_"What are you thinking, little one?"_ he had asked. Too quiet for his brother too hear. _"Certainly not of me. Is there someone else?"_

His quiet laugh at his own question had disgusted her.

_"Is it that boy from the gallery? I'll admit, he did have a certain handsomeness to him."_

That pulled her mind back to the there and then.

_"Are you pretending I'm him?"_

No, she wasn't. How could she? Surely Hope wouldn't such things to her. But, in the end, Tezzim had succeeded in defiling the idea of Hope, tainting the memory she held of him. Perhaps that had been his purpose in mentioning him at all.

_"Would you rather he fuck you instead of me?"_

She remembered having started to cry then, quietly, as she mentally prayed for him to stop. Prayed for him not to say anything more.

Vanille flinched as Donovan tended to the mild infection in her finger, momentarily bringing her back to reality. But only for a moment.

_"Look at this perky backside, Hassan. Isn't it nice?"_

_ "It is."_

_ "Might I have it blush a little? Just a little."_

_ "A little."_

His heavy palm landed on the curve of her buttocks, the contact a wild sting that burned through her. Twice more the loud snap of skin against skin cut the air. She held in the tiny scream that just made it to her throat. Sweet Jesus did it hurt, like a livid blister.

_"That's a nice shade there, isn't it brother?"_

_ "It is."_ Hassan had actually looked, dwelled on it, and then nodded as he went back to his papers.

Tezzim hadn't said much after that, feeling content to ride her until he climaxed with a heavy, drawn out grunt. Vanille thought it would end there. But we all know she isn't that lucky.

_"That was quite nice, thank you, brother. Although,"_

_"What is it?"_

_ "It appears I am not yet satisfied."_ He still sported a full erection._ "Mayhaps I simply can't be content whilst you simply sit there. I don't want you left out."_

_ "How thoughtful of you, Tezzim."_

_ "Why not join us? There's always room for one more."_

Vanille had been stricken with a fresh stab of terror when she saw her master stand and begin to disrobe as he walked towards the bed. Stalking, steady steps that made him look more and more like the hunter his blood demanded he be. He settled onto the bed, on his knees in front of her, and pushed back on her tiny shoulders until she too was on her knees. Tezzim was still behind her.

_Gods no, don't do it. Not this, please, not this..._

Yes. This.

It was only after the twins had finished that she was able to leave, and she went straight to Donovan's office. It seemed the safest place.

The doctor looked up at her, feeling his insides twist at the misery painted on her face and the tears streaming from her eyes.

"Maybe...would you like to stay here tonight?" he asked, feeling it was the only real comfort he could offer.

Vanille could only nod. Though her mind was still alight with the pain and disgust of the late afternoon, she had begun to feel so very tired.

He had a few extra linens and things beneath his own bed, and laid them out across the exam table that she might have a place to sleep. He watched her curl up beneath the blankets, going still, looking so uncomfortable in her own skin. The older man stood by until she appeared to be sleeping, and then decided to retire for the night himself.

It was dark in the adjacent room, Beth having gone to bed some hours ago. He undressed quietly and carefully slid into bed behind her. His arms eased around her small frame and he held her close.

"What is it, darling?" she whispered, half awake.

He didn't answer right away.

"Is she all right?" somehow she knew. Woman's intuition perhaps.

"I'm so angry." Donovan confessed quietly, his body shaking. "Why do they keep doing it to her?"

"I know, dear, I know. But it isn't like we can do anything to stop it. At least she has you to take care of her."

But that failed to make him feel any less guilty.

"Please, try and get some sleep." and Beth kissed his hand as it covered hers in the darkness.

"I'll try." and he held her that much tighter.

Vanille didn't go to sleep straight away, almost fought to stay awake out of fear. Fear of opening her eyes and seeing _him_ looming over her, his slitted eyes glowing.

_Never again_.

She chanted the promise to herself. Not once more would she stand for that bastard to touch her. She didn't care if it kept her in servitude indefinitely, or even if it killed her. Tezzim would not lay another hand on her if it was the last thing she would ever do.

Never again.

Author's Note: I can't believe I got this out on time. I didn't start on it until Friday. I've just had a very busy week. Lots of big stuff going on. If you want to find out what I've been up to, check my deviantart, under Luckyfirerabbit. But I had to force this just a bit, my writer's block is bound and determined to keep me from finishing this damn thing. Can't believe it's been as long as it has. Okay, so our party didn't come to the rescue this time, but I can assure you they will in the next. Don't count on that chapter to be on time, though.


	20. Chapter XIX

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Nineteen**

The Sepulcher was a terrible place indeed, a place some believed that the gods had forgotten. Others say it is where the hands of the gods touched Pulse, life springing up from the once barren planet in every place except beneath their palms. The Pulsian natives called it "_Teh'meh_". It simply meant death. It was hot, dry, and treacherous in every way. And that was just during the day. At night it was cold, so cold, and the creatures that called it home came out to hunt. Snakes, lizards, all kinds of creepers crept about the dunes in search of a meal.

The most notorious of these were called Royals. They were an ancient species of giant scorpion that ranged in size from that of a small dog, which were the princes and princesses, to the size of a vehicle, the emperors, and finally that of a fully grown Ochu, the empresses. The smallest of them came out during the day, since very few predators appeared while the sun was up, and that made after sundown the most dangerous time for travelers. Going anywhere in this desert at night was a death warrant waiting for a signature.

This forced our party to walk about during the blazing hours of the day, where temperatures could range from hardly tolerable to "holy fuck, someone shoot me, it's too hot!". There was no breeze to soothe the burn, no clouds to hide the sun for even a minute. It was all hot, all day. Same bat time, same bat channel.

They were taking the shortest route possible to the other side, but even that stretched for nearly ten miles, and in this heat they considered themselves lucky to make two miles in a couple of hours. Thankfully Teh'Han had thought ahead, bringing several water skins with him that they filled at the river some time back, but even though thirst was not a concern, the heat still was.

Shilo strode along at a very brisk pace, seemingly unaffected by the weather. He'd been living in this area all his life, so it was as much a part of him as his tail. The most he did was pant. Fang fared rather well also, at least she wasn't getting sunburn like the others. Sweat rolled down her face, and even walking appeared to be a chore, but that looked to be the worst of it. Teh'Han, Bard, Hope, Lightning, and even the chocobo were loathing every step deeper into the desert. The satyr was taking it the hardest, having never experienced anything close to these climes before. With his head back and mouth open he trudged along, just barely making it on his own power. His kind were meant for the cold and rain, not the sand.

Lightning's skin was red in patches, just like Hope's, and she could feel the burn on her arms, thighs, and her cheeks. She had wrapped the stretch of red fabric on her shoulder about her head to offer herself some protection, but it wasn't enough to cover everything. Still, she bore it without complaint. Whining wouldn't make it better. It certainly wouldn't help the poor chocobo to stop dragging his feet or to lift up his drooping head.

_Just keep pushing._ Fang chanted in her head._ Just keep pushing. One more step, one more hour, don't stop pushing._

She couldn't stop, she couldn't allow herself to stop. Quitting was not an option. They were so close, more than halfway there according to Han, and this hell hole was only so wide...they were almost there. All she needed to do was reach deep down and find that certain something, pull it out of her guts if need be, and they would make it. They would finally arrive and she would take Vanille back, and then they could go home. Shove it all behind them and just live on.

"Come on, nanny, not much farther now," Fang grabbed the satyr's scarf, practically dragging him behind her.

"Begging your pardon, Miss Fang," Bard panted, then flopped onto his face, an instrument in his bag going _plung_. "Yeh might as well bury my sorry ass right here."

"Oh no you don't," Fang yanked the scarf from around his neck and tied one end of it to one of his horns, and then continued to pull.

"Those are attached yeh know!" he cried, feeling like someone was trying to rip his hair out. "Ow, ow!"

"Then get up and walk," she countered. "I sure as hell ain't carrying you."

Bard rose to his hands and knees, sand stuck to his face with sweat. "Yeh were fine enough teh drag me!" he spat out a few grains that had gotten into his mouth, making his way to his feet. "Bitcheses,"

"Come again?" she had just barely heard the curse as he stood up.

"Bitcheses...my way of sayin' what yeh are without bein' so nasty about it. I dinnae dislike yeh or nothin'...yeh just irritatin' me."

At first Fang seemed confused, curious, but then she smiled. "I like it. Can I use it?"

"Be my guest."

Teh'Han found himself laughing a little to himself. Some people could be so odd. The heat wasn't bothering him too much, just enough for him to take notice of it. His skin tight and red, sweat rolling down his face, neck, and chest, but nothing he didn't expect. He had been through here once before, and though it was nearly two decades ago, he hadn't forgotten this terrible weather. He actually preferred it to the creepers that went about at night, like the one that nearly got him by the leg those many years back.

Han had just escaped the mine, the night still with many hours left in it and him without the luxury to wait until dawn to press on. He had to keep moving lest he be caught, and that wasn't a valid choice by any means. So he strode on into the desert at night, naked and already exhausted but still finding it in him to keep going. It was helpful for him to think the vamps were on his heels, regardless of whether or not they actually were.

Royals, especially the large ones, were ambush predators, and a fat empress nearly snagged him. A large, black and steely pincer erupted from the sand and attempted to sever his leg at the ankle. Thankfully he was but a breath faster than the giant arachnid. It was then that he realized that the day, though hotter, was much safer than the night.

Han knew it wouldn't be much farther to the other side. In spite of the heat they had made very good progress, and they would be out of the desert by dark at the latest. And the other vein of the river would be waiting. From the falls that fed the waterway it forked some miles down, going around this end of the Sepulcher and miles passed its farthest eastern borders. It was probably the only thing keeping the desert from spreading. Once they reached the river, it was only a matter of a few miles or more between them and Arash. The idea made him shiver a little, fear creeping up his back. All of his instincts were telling him to turn back, to go home and forget all about it. Han did his best to ignore the feeling, knowing it was far too late.

Part of him needed to face this. He'd been hiding from it for long enough.

The day was easing into twilight when the sand dissipated into lush green grass, and the heat was no longer so unbearable. The shimmer of running water in the afternoon sun was visible even from their distance, perhaps a hundred yards, but it was easily the most beautiful thing they had seen this entire journey. When they had come close enough, Bard found a pocket of fervor deep down, giving him enough get-up-and-go to rip off his clothes and go running for the water. Sure, in his enthusiasm he tripped, going face first into the river, but he didn't seem to care. The satyr was under the current for several seconds until he burst upwards with a loud gasp.

"By the braids in Ares' beard!" he exclaimed, whipping his head back. "That is so much better!"

Even Shilo was willing to agree with him. The Leonin wasn't much wasted from the heat, but he was very, very thirsty. Everyone thought it a grand idea to stop a moment and have a cold drink.

"Are we going to have to go through that on our way back?" Hope panted as he splashed water on his face, praying the answer would be no.

"We'll figure it out when we get there." Lightning replied just before putting her hands to her face, slowly sipping at the water she had gathered in them.

"Hey, nanny, here's your clothes. Next time I'm keepin' em." and Fang set his belongings down beside the bank before taking a seat. She kicked off her sandals and stuck her feet in the water, letting out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Oh aye, thank yeh. Do forgive my nakedness, everyone." the satyr laughed sheepishly as he climbed out of the water. Water seemed to gush out of his fur, making the red and black and white spots all bleed together. The hair on his tail was completely flat, making it look more akin to the rear end of a rat.

"Just put it away, would ya?" Fang laughed, her head down so she wouldn't see any more than she already had. Which wasn't much, she was just screwing around with him in fun.

"This place is quite pretty," Shilo sighed as he took a seat. "Most of us have never come through Dreadwood, much less out this way so far."

"Lucky you." Han said flatly to himself, but knew that Shilo would hear him. The lion didn't react though, knowing now wouldn't be the time to ask as to why.

"So what's next for us ahead, old fella?" Bard asked as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"We'll stay here tonight." Han replied. "The gates close at sunset...we'll start again in the early morning."

"We're that close then, are we?" his ears perked slightly. "Happy day."

Oh yes, joyous.

_We're that close_. Fang nodded as the idea processed. We're that close, finally, after all the waiting and the worrying, they were nearly there. By tomorrow, she nodded again, slowly. Tomorrow.

_We're that close_. Han felt his guts twisting up inside him. He was starting feel just the way he did when he realized that vampires had come to the steppe, he felt like hiding. But he couldn't now. Already there were vampires creeping across these grasslands en route to Arash, ones that no one could see or hear, and they had his scent. He wouldn't sleep well tonight, convinced one was going to come after him. But that wouldn't be the worst of his late night woes. He would dream, and he would loathe it.

Han woke in the middle of the night, whilst everyone else was fast asleep, covered in chilly sweat and trying to breathe, his eyes wild and madly searching for the boogeyman in the dark that wasn't there. Slitted eyes and horrid screams filled his night terrors, something he hadn't dreamed of since leaving Archylte and certainly not in such a vivid manner. He felt the heat of the dozens of burning tents, felt sweat rolling down his face as he screamed himself hoarse, and he could make out the innumerable shapes of fleeing men and children. It was like he was there, watching it happen all over again.

Teh'Han couldn't find it in him to go back to sleep after that, deciding to spend the rest of the night heavy shouldered and puffing his pipe as he sat silently in the darkness. He didn't move until after the sun came up, when the others began to rouse from sleep. He gathered his few belongings and put out his pipe, ready for the day to begin. But he looked terrible, and everyone could see it but wouldn't say so. He looked like a man that had gone suddenly sick, pallor faced and dreary in the eyes. Still, they went forward, as ill as it made him.

The road to Arash was clear, well kept, and rolled along the hills to the city for several miles. Standing atop one of those hills they could see the grayish silhouette of Arash against the horizon. At the start of the road rose two statues. Finely maintained and crafted stone monuments towering more than eleven feet high. To the left side was the statue of a regal male vampire, adorned in armor and a sheathed sword, with his hands open in welcome and his profile noble with an up tipped chin. To the right was another vampire, female, sculpted masterfully into fine robes and gentle features that also conveyed a sense of greeting. It was said they were depicted after Kalitas himself and his mate, Saint Jhessia the Wise.

The party went on with little fuss over them, as fine as they were.

"Is that what they really look like?" Hope was walking backwards, his eyes glued to the statues.

"Some of them." Han grumbled.

"What kind attacked Fang?"

Han felt his brow tighten. "They're called Bondsman. They're bred to hunt...to keep things as they are."

"Sounds about right." Fang laughed with a hint of sarcasm. "Big, nasty buggers."

"Most of them are big," Teh'Han chanced an unseen smirk, "and _all_ of them are nasty."

"All of them?" the young man didn't seem to believe it.

"Let's just assume they are until we know any different." Lightning interjected, thinking that mindset would be safest. They didn't know in great detail what they were walking into. Error on the side of caution was more practical than blindness in attempts to be polite. She also had the itching notion to hold her gunblade, finger on the trigger, just because. But that was sure to come off as hostile, and our dear heroine wouldn't want to be perceived as hostile, now would she?

There was a line of people and wagons full of numerous goods waiting for entrance into the city when they arrived. The gates had yet to be opened, but it wouldn't be long until they swung back, allowing the thriving multitude to go about their business. The lot of them simply filed in at the back of the line and waited patiently. Patiently, but not without trouble. You try being stuck behind a heard of filthy, shitting cattle and not be uncomfortable. And in front of the cows were a small team of gassy mules, the wind carrying it all the way back. Hope had tucked his shirt collar over his nose, thinking it would help. It didn't. It was Cannibal Straights all over again, maybe even worse.

"Don't make eye contact with anyone," Han said quietly as they drew closer to the gates. "Just pretend like you belong here and know exactly where you're going."

And everyone nodded silently, never mind that they didn't fully understand his suggestion. Vampires could tell when someone or something was lost, and therefore a target. The last thing they wanted is for anything to watch them too closely. The lot of them went through the gates, passed the armed attendants there without so much as a wayward glance, and they were greeted with the same negligence.

At this hour Arash was already busy in preparation for the markets and auction houses to open. All the best products were available this early in the day, so you can imagine how many tried their damnedest to make it out at the crack of dawn. Bloodchiefs were on their way to the citadel, nobles sent out their servants for any necessities they required, children were en route to school, and everyone else was just trying to make it to the right place at the right time. They pressed on through the teeming mass of strange bodies, watching where they were going and trying to take in everything they had never seen before at the same time. In their divided focus, no one seemed to notice how many vampires, and humans, would pause a moment to stare. Sure, by most standards they were rather strange looking, but it wasn't so much their attire that drew peoples' gazes.

_That can't be natural_, one man gasped.

_What vivid color_, a noble woman whispered behind her pale hand.

_Mommy, can I touch i_t? A child wondered as they were pulled along by their attentive parent.

"What are they staring at?" Hope said quietly, thinking someone would hear him and be able to answer.

"You're hair." Han said quickly. "Vampires like strange colors on humans for some reason."

Hope suddenly felt the need to cover his head, having caught the intent of a slitted gaze for a brief moment. Lightning pretended not to notice even as her appearance garnered scandalous looks from numerous men. Both human and not.

The party made it to Saints Plaza with little hold up, stopping near the center where the traffic seemed the least congested. It gave them enough space to simply take a moment and get their bearings straight.

"This place is huge." Hope was looking up at the towering statues that rounded the plaza, mesmerized. "Where do we even start?"

"I'm with him. I can't even tell which end is up." Fang crossed her arms, feeling a little overwhelmed all of a sudden.

"Well," Shilo began, "where is this sister of theirs most likely to be?"

"She was kidnapped, _ae mot_," Han shrugged in reply. "She could be anywhere."

"I assume you know something of their culture, so what would be done with her then, do you think?"

"You sounded like you knew when we talked about it." Fang turned to Han, expecting some form of explanation.

Yeah, he knew, but honestly didn't want to take them there. Still, he had no choice. They'd come all this way already. "Very well, follow me."

It was one of the parts of the city he actually knew rather well, the trade district of Saint Malakir the Just. Most of his time in Arash had been spent here, in and out, paraded about the auction block in shackles as buyers shouted their bids. The memories left a heavy, bitter taste in his mouth, and an itch around his neck that reminded him of the manacle he once wore. He scratched at it once to assure himself that it wasn't there.

Part of him expected someone to recognize him, perhaps one of the auction house staff as he passed them by.

"There must be dozens of them." Lightning looked from left to right, looked down each side of the street to see nothing but vendors and trade compounds.

"At least." Hope was counting almost ten, and that was just by the buildings he could actually see. There was no telling how many more stretched to the district's end where it met the barrier wall. "Christ...they sell people here..."

"And a partridge in a pear tree." Fang shrugged. This was looking worse by the second. Then she turned her head. "What's wrong, nanny?"

"Will yeh stop callin' me that?" Bard huffed. "But...people are gawkin' at me funny."

"Well, they think sunshine's hair is the biggest thing since sliced bread, so you can imagine what they must think of you." Fang smirked a little.

The lot of them stopped when Teh'Han stopped and turned to face them. "Feel free to ask any of the house curators about her, but don't expect anyone to tell you little more than lies. I think there's some sort of..." he searched for the word, "unspoken code of secrecy between the lot of them. You'll be lucky to find anyone willing to tell what got sold to who."

"You're not exactly encouraging us." Fang could feel frustration starting to bubble in her stomach.

"I warned you, didn't I?" was his answer, his silver eyes cold. "I'm not going to lie and tell you it's easy, because it isn't."

"He's right." Lightning wasn't going to lie either. If they were expecting this to be simple, there was a serious problem. "We'll pair off, take a side of the street on either end and we'll meet in the middle."

"Sounds fair enough," Shilo agreed. "Who goes with who?"

"I'll go with nanny." Fang said.

"Bitcheses," the satyr grumbled, only to see her smile.

"The young lad can come with me." and Shilo gripped Hope's shoulder and yanked him to his side, the young man's eyes wide and somewhat confused. "We'll go that way." the Leonin point off behind him and started for the farthest end of the district.

By the time Lightning fully processed what in God's name just happened, it was just her and Han, the other's having gone off.

"Crap." she sighed quietly before turning to face her reluctant partner. "So, where do we start?"

Han didn't seem too pleased with the lot he had been given either. "We can begin here, just mind your valuables."

Each pairing had to have encountered over two dozen different faces, some vampire, some human, and all the while trying to avoid the gray skinned bondsmen as much as possible. Just by the way they carried themselves, it was assumed that contact with them was a bad idea. But no matter who they spoke to, how they asked the necessary questions, everyone said the same thing. "Nope, hadn't seen her", or "no, I don't recall anyone like that". It was obvious that at least one of them was lying, but there was no way to be sure which one. It was troubling, frustrating, and hope-shattering. Naturally, as you can imagine, Fang was taking it the worst.

It was some time after noon that the party regrouped near where they had left one another.

"Any luck?" Lightning asked, knowing the answer by how low Fang seemed.

"Nothin'." Bard shook his head. "Somma these fanged fellas be full of shite, but there's little teh been done of that. We did the best we knew how." and he put a supportive hand on Fang's hung shoulder. She had nothing to say, as Bard must have said whatever she had on her mind. "What of you two?"

"Not a trace." Lightning's gaze fell to the street. "I think Shepherd's right about that code of silence thing."

"What about Shilo and Hope?" Fang finally found it in her to speak.

"Not seen them yet." Han tipped up his chin, scratching his neck. "Maybe they'll have had better luck."

It would be a while yet before the lion and Hope would reappear, but when they did, their expressions were surprising. Hope was actually smiling, and Shilo appeared curious at best.

"The boy was certain it was familiar," Shilo was shaking his head, his bushy mane swishing. "Traded his coat to get it."

Hope stepped into their circle, holding something in his arms. He stepped up to Fang. "Is it hers? It is, isn't it?"

A stretch of pelt covered in plush, chestnut colored fur. Fang carefully took it from him, held it in her hands and ran her fingers through it. Her frustration died and was steadily replaced with a glimmer of hope that was not yet squashed.

"She's been here." she managed somewhat breathlessly. "Hope, where did you find this?"

"A ways down there, but don't bother. I already asked where the guy got it, but he just said some nobody sold it to him thinking it was fake."

"Oh no, that's real," Shilo intervened. "I've killed enough bears to know that's genuine."

"Well, at least it's progress." Lightning gave a small sigh.

"Hey," Hope seemed puzzled, looking around in a bit of a tizzy. "Where's the chocobo?"

"I sold it." Han spoke up. "If we're going to be here a while, we're going to need money. Which brings up another idea; we need a place to stay." and he said that last bit with particular interest considering all of the saddlebags were on his shoulders.

"Afraid so." the lion nodded. "Where might there be lodgings about this stone jungle?"

That was one of the few things about this city that Teh'Han didn't know. Maybe, by some stroke of luck, there was a patron saint of inns. Yes, Saint Howard Johnson the pillow fluffer, that would work.

"Well," Han began cautiously after a moment. "There's little more we can do here for the time being...let's have a look around and see what there is to see."

I'll have you know that there is no Saint Howard Johnson the pillow fluffer...but I would imagine that folks as keen as you would've picked up on that right away. There is, however, a Saint Aela the Joyous, and she was the patron of music as well as all other forms of expression and entertainment. Her's was the only statue or portrait every interpreted with a smile. Her district was a peculiar one in comparison to the others in that it was not packed with many buildings or residential structures. Many artists, most of them poor, came here to live and hone their craft at the conservatory. Since many of them could not afford lodging in the only inn, the conservatory dorms, or the one tenement complex, they were lawfully able to live in tents. The only stipulation is that the materials they were made from be brightly colored and well kept. Naturally the district was always alight with the many hues and styles of the tent cities lining its street, and was always busy with the many dancers, musicians, and acrobats that practiced for the public to see that they might earn a few talons.

The conservatory was nestled against the barrier wall, and at the foot of the sprawling marble staircase was a plaza not much unlike the one at the heart of the city, most certainly not as grand as that. It comprised of a working fountain, water spouting from the trio of statues that stood in the midst of it. Each sculpture was an interpretation of Aela representing one of the primary arts; music, dance, and literature. It was around the fountain that the finest of the city's artists worked in public view. Would you believe how few bondsman patrolled this area? I bet you wouldn't.

Somehow our party wandered here, none of them sure of where they were going to begin with. Not to say it wasn't a nice place to be, just it wasn't what they were looking for. Sightseeing was not on their to-do list after all. Bard was perhaps the only one that didn't have a problem with being without direction. He was in his element here, you could say. He was surrounded by folks just like him, artists. This is what he had come to Arash for anyhow, he had just been kind enough to lend a hand in their affairs.

"It's everythin' I dreamed it would be." Bard looked around, smiling with wide eyes. "I cannae thank you lot enough for helpin' me get here."

"Stick around, you just might." Fang thought aloud. Part of her was quietly hoping that he wouldn't leave, wouldn't desert them. Another part was well aware that he was free to come and go as he pleased, and that she had no right to influence him into doing anything he didn't wish to.

"Well, I dinnae have much choice considerin' I probably wouldn't make it home without yeh, either. So I will." Then he leaned real close so only Fang would hear. "Although even if I could, I'd stay anyway. I enjoy you folks too much."

"Thanks...I think." she replied uncertainly. What a strange fellow.

"We should turn around, look somewhere else," Lightning had turned, looking in the direction they had come. If the culture shock wasn't enough, not knowing where the flying fuck she was going was plenty.

"Mayhaps we should ask someone?" Shilo suggested aloud, perhaps wondering why no one had thought about it already. "I understand we're strangers here, suspicious of everyone, but surely there's at least one person who can give us a finger in the right direction. There are humans everywhere, why not," and he would have continued if it weren't for the tugging on his tail. He turned, everyone turned as well, to see two young and rather thin looking human girls staring up at the Leonin with all the interest of a child with a strange looking bug.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

The girls giggled madly, amazed that he could actually speak by the sounds of their tittering. Shilo must have been the first one they had ever seen. Once the fit was over, one of them managed to actually speak somewhat plain English. Sure, she still laughed and blushed like mad, but she tried.

"My friend wants to know,"

"You were wondering too!" the other chastised her friend.

"_We_ were wondering," she snickered some more. "Could we paint you?"

Shilo looked over his shoulder at his companions, smiling in spite of their seemingly harried expressions.

"I'll make you a deal." he crouched down so they could see eye to eye, and this only served to make them both blush harder. "I'll let you paint me all you want if you can tell us where the nearest inn is."

"Is that all?"

"We can tell you that!" the both of them were more than willing to give the Leonin anything. That feline charmer. "The Blue Door is right down the way there, just before you enter the plaza on your right."

"But the inn keepers aren't there right now." the other added. "It doesn't open until the evening."

"Well, thank you very much, ladies," he was pulling out all the stops to draw them in, gently taking one girl's dainty hand in his huge paw and giving the smooth knuckles a kitty kiss. She threw an absolute fit, laughing and squirming with her face turned away. "Where might we find the inn keepers at this hour, then?"

"Usually they're here performing...somewhere. It changes all the time."

"I see." Shilo straightened and turned back to the others. "I don't mean to hang anyone up,"

"No, you got us exactly what we were looking for," Han interrupted. "And, clearly, what you wanted as well."

"I believe in equal opportunities," he smirked.

"One of us will stay with you." Han insisted. The idea of any of them being alone in this gods forsaken city didn't set well with him at all. Never mind the circumstances.

"Very well, come on, lad," and Shilo once again reached for Hope and silently demanded his companionship. Hope looked terrified, but more so confused. "You look like you could use a little exposure to the women folk."

"I don't want to expose anything." he shook his head feverishly.

The Leonin laughed loudly, his fangs showing and the girls marveling at the sight of them. They then took his massive paw in both their hands and pulled him away. "I'll find you once they're done!" he shouted back, seeing Han wave his hand in reception.

"Why does _he _get teh have all the fun?" Bard crossed his arms, the knitting of his brow belying a sense of jealousy.

"Because he thinks with his dick." Fang laughed. "Let's get a move on and find these inn keepers." in spite of how little time they had spent walking about, she was already starting to feel fatigued. Maybe it was the heaping helping of disappointment she had to swallow today. Or maybe she just wanted to find a bed to crawl under for a little while and gather her thoughts.

Now down to four, the remainder of the party started back the way they came, looking from side to side in hopes of spotting whoever it was they were looking for. You would think they would have bothered to ask what these folks looked like, wouldn't you? As it stood, they didn't even know if they were looking for a human or not, having failed to fully comprehend that it was now an option. Too little, too late I suppose. Hell, they hadn't even asked for names.

The crowds had grown thicker, more dense in the few moments they had spent near the fountain. Was there something in particular going on that everyone but our weary travelers knew about? What was with all the cheering and gasps of wonder, the cheers of shrill delight as children were hoisted onto their parent's shoulders?

There was a sudden _BANG_, a sound that split the air and stopped the party in its tracks as a cloud of bright red smoke billowed upward from the throngs in a phantasmal bubble. It was sheer curiosity that pulled them closer, the dying need to know the source of such noise. They wove and gently pushed through the crowd, drawing steadily closer to see what all the hub-bub was about. The teeming horde of people had formed a large circle around a pair of performers. One of them was short, stocky fellow with bright blonde hair, mustache, and goatee to match, all of it dyed crimson at the tips. He was a turned vampire, visible by his comparatively normal skin tone and pricked ears. The other, as to his species, they couldn't tell for sure as he was disguised in a strange costume that one would only assume to be a loose translation of the Fal'Cie Ifrit. In this costume he chased the other vampire who ran screaming like a woman until he came round to a large, brightly colored rubber ball that was almost bigger than himself. The Ifrit imitator stopped on all fours, suddenly acting like an excited dog as the vamp held the ball over his head, acting as if he were about to throw it. Which he did after a time of baiting the crowd into the illusion.

Up in the air it went, never reaching the ground. Whoever was in the costume flopped onto their back, covered feet in the air to catch the ball and began to spin it, kicking it up into the air again and again. Once more it rose, "Ifrit" jumping straight up to catch it as it fell. The actor had straightened his body just so the gaping mouth of the costume, now open, would fall away and reveal his face. Another vampire grinned at the crowd as the ball landed on his open palm, a pure blood with blue-gray skin, red tattoos on his face, and his hair dyed white and tipped in sapphire. He took a bow and stepped out of the costume, leaving it on the cobblestone street in a pile for the time being. He tossed the ball to his partner who abruptly popped it with a jab of his claws, the form collapsing with a bright flash and puff of blue smoke that flew away as a bird's silhouette. It garnered a drawn gasp from the crowd.

For the next few moments the pair performed some rudimentary tricks. Some basic slight of hand with cards, sword swallowing and fire breathing. When that failed to earn the reaction they were hoping for, they executed some very fine, near humanly impossible tumbling. Shocking enough as it may have been, the smaller of the duo was able to easily hold the other without breaking a sweat, even as the larger one stood on the soles of his feet while he stood on only one hand.

That was all well and good, the crows liked it, but it still wasn't enough. They wanted to wow them. Without any real forethought or intent, the larger of the two reached into the audience and yanked a volunteer into the circle.

"Everyone give a big hand for my beautiful assistant!" He played them all like a fiddle, had them wrapped around his litter finger to do as he requested. "What's your name, miss?"

"Let go of me," Lightning grimaced, trying but failing to free her wrist from his grip.

"That's a funny name," he smirked knowingly. "This isn't going to be difficult at all. All I need you to do is stand right here and don't move, just pay attention to me."

He held her by the shoulders for a moment, until he was sure she would hold her place, and then stared straight at her.

"Look at me...look at me," he was refusing to blink, and Lightning was trying to refuse to put up with this crap. "Don't watch that, watch me..."

Shove.

She was stock still as she fell backwards, never expecting for something solid to be at her feet as she tried to stop herself. Whatever it was pushed upward just as her back rolled across it, and she flipped through the air to land safely on her feet. The look on her face spoke volumes, mostly shock and uncertainty as to what just happened.

"This is a fancy little item."

Lightning saw the smaller vampire with her gunblade and reacted, lunging for him with an arm outstretched to grab it. Without even having to look the vampire stepped just so, twisting his body, that he rolled over her shoulder and down her back to his feet. Still flabbergasted she turned and watched as he inspected her weapon, somehow finding out how to change it into its sword form.

"Wow, never seen anything like this before. Does it make Julienne fries?" then he promptly swallowed it, taking the weapon down to the hilt in his mouth in spite of how oddly shaped it was compared to the others.

Lightning meant to lunge for him again as he paraded his marvelous feat about the circle so everyone might see, but the larger vamp stopped her. He had a hold of the long tail of hair against her shoulder, not pulling, just holding. In the blink of an eye he ran his clawed fingers though it and pulled a full tress of rosy pink hair free. He held it up, seemingly triumphant, but mostly so the audience could see.

"You're in for a real treat, lords and ladies, just keep an eye on my hands. Don't look away, don't look away," he drew the lot of them in once more, all the while Lightning was fuming as she fought to process all of this. "Watch me now, watch my hands,"

He tucked the strand of hair into his tightened fist until it was no longer visible. He pantomimed opening his sleeves to show there was nothing in them, and I say pantomimed because he had no sleeves to speak of, no shirt. When he thought the crowd was satisfied of his honest intentions, he sneezed convincingly into his fist, held it there a moment, and then sneezed again. Where they real? Sure could have fooled me, and I'm the writer for heaven's sake.

Slowly, as if with a great amount of effort, he forced the fingers of his other hand into his fist, and then put an equal amount of force of pulling whatever was in there out.

"Ah-HAH!" and out of his fist came a silken scarf colored the same as the tresses he had taken. He pulled and pulled, and they just kept coming. "Where does it end, lords and ladies, where does it end? Where does it end," he looked to his partner, "Seriously, where's the end?"

And he only responded with hiked shoulders and eyebrows.

He laughed to cover up his uncertainty, a trick that always seemed to work no matter how difficult the crowd was. Finally he reached the end, taking another bow as the people applauded. "But that is not the end, no, no! I have one last, magnificent wonder of magic and sorcery to reveal! Behold, my final feat!"

Could he milk these folks or what?

He swiftly wound up the chain of silken scarfs around his forearms until he had gathered all of them up, and then began to wad them together until they could fit into his fist once more, until not a corner of them could be seen.

"Once again, watch my hands, everyone, watch my hands," with both arms out and hands curled into tight fits he stood stock still, his head turning slowly as he scanned the crowd. He wanted to be sure that everyone was looking. Then his hands came together in a split second, palms opening at the last possible moment. There was another loud _BANG_, the smoke now black and rising upward in the crude shape of a mushroom. As he pulled his arms apart the cloud collapsed, coalesced, and disappeared to reveal a massive raven sitting on one arm. It looked like it was a real, it even squawked like it was real. It was indeed real.

The audience erupted, golden coins began to rain down on the bowing performers as well as bits of bread that the raven dove for and eagerly gobbled up. Lightning could only just stand there, still appearing to be lost in what had just transpired.

"Thank you, thank you, you have been a wonderful audience! Be sure to remember Francisco and Raul during the Saints Festival as we will be performing at the plaza every night!"

The crowd slowly dispersed, everyone going about their daily routines once more now that the entertainment was over. The rest of the party pressed forward to Lightning. Fang, as you may have already guessed, was laughing. One hand on her stomach and the other on Light's shoulder once she was close enough.

"You should have seen your face!" she struggled to talk.

Lighting rolled her eyes, snatching her gunblade from the blonde vampire when he came over. He had begun picking up the remnants of the performance.

"You looked like the man had stolen your underwear," Fang was beside herself, face beet red and tears starting to roll down her heated cheeks.

"Speaking of which, these are yours,"

Lightning paled at the blonde vampire as he stood before her once more. How in the hell had he gotten _those_ without her notice? Her eyes were wide, her jaw just tight, and she found herself unable to move for a brief second. Fang hung on her shoulder, a hand over her mouth as she stared on as well, the set of her eyes mimicking Lightning's terror.

Fang was composed for a moment, or at least appeared to be long enough to say, "The man stole your knickers...do I really need to say anything?" and then the laughter started anew when she ripped the private garment from the vampire's hand, still convinced that she would've noticed him taking something like that. She suddenly felt naked.

"It's nice to know that someone enjoyed the show so much," the pure blood vampire smiled, seeming very pleased and the raven came to rest on his shoulder. "You will have to forgive us if we embarrassed your friend."

"All is forgiven," Fang took a breath to say. Bard stood over her to be sure she was all right, not wanting her to laugh herself to death.

"I'm thinkin' she likes yeh," Bard assumed aloud. He realized then that if you could make Fang laugh, you had a life long engagement as a friend. At the very least a pleasant acquaintance.

He chuckled. "That's nice to know." he then looked around, seeing the strangers that lingered on after the crowd had gone. "I haven't seen any of you around here before...what brings you to our fair city, if I may ask?"

"Who be askin'?" the satyr cocked an eyebrow.

"Saints, where are my manners," he shook his head. "I am Raul, Raul Von Moon. And this is my partner, Francisco Argenti. We are, as you could see, performers."

"And panty thieves!" Fang howled, finally nearing the end of her hysterical fit.

"Well, yes, it's almost frightening how good we are at that." Raul was, for a millisecond, ashamed of the talent. "So, is there anything I can help you with? Your friend there was kind enough to lend her assistance-,"

"And her skivvies!,"

"...and I would like to return the favor." Raul was finding it hard not to laugh as well. Francisco was already covering his mouth against it.

"Do yeh happen teh know where we can find the keepers of the Blue Door?" Bard crossed his arms, curious and with low expectations.

"I do indeed, I've known them all my life." Raul nodded. "And they stand before you. I suppose you're in need of a place to stay?"

"You'd be supposin' right. Mayhaps you're in the mood teh lend us a warm bed while we're here?"

"Of course we would, wouldn't we, Francisco?"

"Naturally," the smaller vamp appeared delighted. "Come, come, let's get out of the hot sun then."

The performers gathered up all of their props and things and the lot of them started down the street towards the inn. Teh'Han followed a few steps behind, terrified of the giant black terror on the vamp's shoulder. He'd felt this way since he saw the bird and refused to go any closer in its direction. He was far too distracted by the winged creature to even notice what Lightning was so quiet and red faced about as she shoved something in her pocket, hurrying along behind him in attempts to catch up. All he had been able to recall was a short lived flash of the smaller vampire holding something pink.

She looked upset, whatever the reason, and he wasn't about to open himself up for another punch in the face by inquiring what was wrong.

Author's Note: Not too sure how I feel about this one, I know it was a lot of filler. But, meh, you know how it tends to go. So Light and Han are on speaking terms. Yay! And I'm sure some of you will be pleased to know that they'll be talking a bit more often in the chapters to come, as well as the remainder of Teh'Han's back story. Hang in there and enjoy.


	21. Chapter XX

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty**

The Blue Door looked to be a simple place from the outside, situated just beside the last building in the district and two stories tall. The wooden facade looked weathered, like it could tell a million stories if walls could talk, as did the sign that dangled from an iron bar above the door. And contrary to its name, the door wasn't blue.

Francisco pulled the key from his pocket, all the while trying to balance an armful of their props as he twisted it in the lock and pushed through the door. It was dark inside, the only light coming through the pair of stained glass windows on the face of the building.

"Mind your step everyone," Francisco warned as he walked down a small flight of wooden steps without looking, "you're liable to break your face should you trip."

Quickly Raul went about lighting lamps along the walls with a mere snap of his fingers, a spark flickering between them and creating a flame. As the light grew, our party could see better where they were going.

It would be more accurate to say the Blue Door had three floors. The first floor consisted of a circular walkway with a wrought iron railway. At the far side were two doors, one leading to the lodgings on this floor, and the other concealing the stairwell to the second floor. From the front door one could also choose to take another flight of stairs that descended into the open basement where there were many repaired-before tables and chairs, a fully stocked bar with an array of barrels and bottles behind it, and a stage that stretched easily twenty feet back. Francisco and Raul renovated the place when they first bought it, digging beneath the city streets to make the room they needed to install the wooden platform. With that being said, it was truer to say that the Blue Door wasn't just an inn, but a pub and dance hall as well.

"It isn't much. You could say we're the working man's opera house," Raul laughed, seeming proud of his establishment in a humble way. "Not to say anything bad about the actual opera, but,"

"Stop short-changing yourself, Raul, you sound like an old woman." Francisco scolded as he made it down the stairs and laid the props to rest on a table. "Act like you have the _cajones_ that I know you do. Be proud!"

"I am, rest assured, I just prefer not to flaunt it."

"What, it's not like these ladies and gentle-," the blonde vampire did a double take at Bard, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things, "_men_...know who you are."

"Shush, Francisco. Now," the pure blood turned his attention away from his partner for a moment. "Make yourself at home, please. Have a seat. Perhaps someone would like a beverage?"

Fang quickly raised a hand, as did Teh'Han and Francisco.

"Get back here and make your own, you silly man," he smirked at his smaller compatriot.

That comment, perhaps the tone of his voice, made Fang make a strange face. She looked at the vampires as their backs were turned with such...how to say it...disbelief perhaps? Disbelief with a hint of...it was the sort of face one would make after receiving unnecessarily intimate information without asking for it. You know the one, because I'm sure some of you have made it before. Still, Fang said nothing, holding the expression for a long moment before allowing it to disappear.

"Can't serve liquor while the sun is up," Raul mentioned from behind the bar. The giant raven had left his previous perch to another on the back of one of the many vacant chairs. He cawed and cawed, but then went quiet.

"Must be worth waiting until dark for," Fang chuckled. "Still, don't care, just long as it's cold."

"_That_ I can do all day long." and in a few moments, he stepped around the bar balancing a full tray on his palm covered in frosted glasses. He passed one to everyone, thinking it polite even if all of them hadn't asked for it. Once everyone appeared tended to, Raul took a seat, Francisco joining him a moment later.

"So how long will you be staying with us?"

"Don't know." Fang answered after taking a long drawn sip from the glass. The water was almost cold enough to give her brain freeze. "We're looking for my sister."

"I know almost everyone here, surely I can point you in the right direction."

"I wish that was the case," Fang's expression seemed to darken. "We think she was kidnapped and brought here."

"Oh," Raul's brows sank over his eyes, the slits widening as his eyes set with concern. Francisco reacted in a similar manner. "Goodness, I'm very sorry to hear that. Perhaps there is something we can do to help?"

"Hmph," Teh'Han sounded less than convinced by the vampire's compassion as he hunched in his seat, his eyes on the top of the table in front of him.

"Don't take it personally, he's got issues." Fang explained briefly.

"I understand," and it sounded like the pure blood really did. "Still, I would like to assist you if I can."

"Can we trust you?" a question almost everyone had been meaning to ask but had yet to find the opportunity. Fang lifted one eyebrow, cautious of his answer. "Why should we?"

Raul's brow tightened in the middle, his hands lacing together on the table top. Francisco put a caring hand against his friend's back.

"Because, if I am safe in assuming the details of your situation, I was once where you are. In a way, that is."

"How so?" Fang lounged back in the chair, her arms crossing.

"You had best explain yourself, Raul." Francisco sighed, patting his back before easing back into his seat.

"I suppose so." He shrugged. "Do you mind?"

"Knock yourself out." it would've been awfully rude to say "shut the fuck up", considering they had no genuine reason to back it up.

"Very well." and he heaved out another heavy shrug before he began. "I suppose you have seen our trade district, in particular our auction facilities."

"We have." and they had disgusted them.

"Well...there was a time when my family was very familiar with that...scene. I look back on it now and I'm ashamed." he shook his head. "I didn't care about those poor people, didn't care about their misery. I simply didn't care, I saw them as most of my kind sees humans: as food. It didn't bother me at all that some had been taken away from their families, their relations killed so they could not come for them, or that husbands had sold their wives so they might marry someone else. It didn't break my heart like it does now."

Fang cringed. Was all of that true? By the gods.

"But, after some time, Francisco came into my father's employ. I honestly can't tell you what changed so suddenly, but something did, and we became friends. He showed me what humans were really like once you cared to look at them as another of the gods' creations and not just a meal. Time passed and I slowly realized what a terrible, ugly thing we were doing, and I wanted for that to change. But, in that, I also realized that it wouldn't be an easy thing to do."

"So what happened?" Fang wondered.

"To put it simply," the vampire found it in him to smile a little, "I gave up my family name, all of my privileges, and stole away with Francisco. We've been together ever since, performing and running this place as best we can, trying to help others as we go. We've almost been caught at it a few times, but thank the saints we weren't."

The fact that Francisco was sitting there made Raul's story valid, however...

"Two questions."

"Very well."

"What's your real name, first off," she asked, one hand raised with one finger extended.

"Raul Ibn' Altaire, first son of Saint Altaire." he was slightly proud to say.

"Second thing," and the second finger, "not once did I see a vamp up for sale out there."

"Oh, yes, well, you wouldn't."

"I used to be mortal," Francisco curled one end of his mustache between his fingers. "But I wanted to stay with Raul, so I asked him to turn me."

Fang nodded, appearing to accept the answers. "All right...so what can you do for us?"

"Well, this being a bar-,"

"Among other things," Francisco pretended to whisper behind his hand. And one would understand his suggestion once they made note of the numerous portraits that lined the walls of various beautiful women in even more various stages of undress.

"We tend to hear a lot of gossip. My girls would be more than happy to keep an ear open,"

"Your _girls_?" out of all that had been going on, talked about, Lightning chose that particular comment to be curious about.

"I have waitresses." Raul replied, his tone slightly defensive.

"What else?" Fang wanted his attention back on her.

His expression belied a sense of surprise, as if he hadn't expected her to ask. "Uh, well...w-what more do you want?"

"Have you seen her by chance?" her tone was slightly agitated now, like he should already know this shit.

"What does she look like?"

"About so tall, bit scrawny, bright red hair."

Raul and Francisco exchanged glances, shaking their heads after a moment. "Can't say it sounds familiar." the two said in unison. "But we can keep an eye out. We often perform in other districts, perhaps we can catch a glimpse of her."

"Great." another lump of disappointment she was forced to choke down. "Okay, let me ask you this...what can _we_ do about it?"

"Until you have a lead, you can stay with us. The rooms aren't much, but at least the beds are clean and the rats are gone."

"Rats?" Bard swallowed.

"It should work out all right, although I can't do this completely free of charge. I stand a fair risk doing this and I would like it to be worth my time. I don't mean to be a stickler...but I do have a business to run."

"Perhaps they could help us around here at night?" Francisco suggested, his claws still twining in his facial hair. "I'm sure the ladies wouldn't mind another bouncer at the door. Or two."

"I suppose," Raul chewed on his lip with one fang, considering the idea.

"I'm a musician." Bard volunteered.

"You hear that? We haven't had decent entertainment in here in a while,"

"True," Raul nodded, still chewing.

"We have a little money, if that's what you're asking for." Lightning added.

Still thinking, Raul didn't react. He was quiet for a long moment, weighing the possibilities silently in his head.

Han stirred a little in his chair, uncomfortable and anxious. His instincts were telling him to run again, to spit in the lying blood sucker's face and bolt for the door. To hell with him, his short friend, and to hell with his fucking raven. The animal had been boring holes into him since he sat down, he could feel its gaze cold against him. Part of him was begging the powers that be to make the creature explode in a shower of feathers.

The raven must have heard his silent plea as it looked away, turning its head as it took off from its perch to land on its master's shoulder once again. The rustle of feathers and the loud squawk startled Han, but he didn't appear to noticeably react. In fact he held perfectly still, but his heart leaped in his chest at the sounds.

Raul stroked the bird's neck with the tip of his claw, smiling. "My Kibo, what do you think? What should I do for these strange folks?"

"You'll listen to that squab but not me?" Francisco played at being hurt. "You prattling twat."

Raul only laughed as he continued to stroke the bird. It cawed in a strange way, and then it whistled into a strange purr.

"Is that so? Well, that settles it then." he looked at the bird and then looked to his guests. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, but a little help every once in a while would be much appreciated. And everyone needs to get along."

Oh Christ. Teh'Han felt his heart sink. This was going to be a very long...endeavor.

"Would you mind showing them around, Francisco? I'm afraid I have some errands to run before we open tonight."

"Why don't I just dress up like a maid and prance about with a feather duster?" He stood up with his hands over head, feigning outrage while smiling, Raul chuckling over his reaction. "If everyone will follow me, we'll get you squared away."

Up the stairs and through one door, up another flight of stairs to the second floor they followed him.

"The rooms are, basically, meant for overnight patrons so they aren't very luxurious. But they're comfy."

And the vampire was right. A bed, a rocking chair, and a fire place were squashed into rooms that were roughly ten feet by ten feet. Each room had a painting not unlike the ones down in the pub area, clearly meant to be there in order to instill love and romance in those who spent the night. After all, the beds were just big enough for two, three if they were all midgets. and an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling kept the space lit when the fireplace wasn't in use.

Lightning stepped into the room that Francisco had led her to, looking around a brief moment to take in what was there. Just as the vampire started on again she turned, garnering his attention with the sudden movement.

"What sort of transportation do you have here? I have an errand to run outside the city." she asked him.

"Oh, well," he paused a moment, having forgotten that she wasn't from around here. "Arash is known for it's fine horses; if you have the money the next auction should be in about...a few minutes actually. Would you like me to come with you?"

"I can manage. Thank you anyway."

"My pleasure. Just be sure to be back by sunset, otherwise you'll be stuck out there until morning." and then he was on his way.

Lightning scowled hard after a moment. She hadn't a penny to her name, she hadn't needed money for a while now, considering the Center had provided her with everything she needed after the fall. Shepherd had sold the chocobo, therefore he had the money. But she was certainly not of the mind to ask him for it.

However, walking wasn't much in the question either. Where she meant to go, to get there and back, would take longer than she had before dark.

"Christ." she shrugged.

"What's wrong?"

Her head lifted in a snap, her eyes falling on the heavy shadow in the doorway. There he was, standing there with his darkened silver eyes and heavy brow. Speak of the devil and he appears.

"Nothing." the edges of her mouth were tight, much like his own surely were. "Just thinking."

"Did you need something?"

"No. Everything's fine."

"Very well." and he was gone, almost fading out of sight.

For several minutes Light stood there, processing what just happened. Coming to her favorite and seemingly all encompassing answer that he was just a strange old savage. With that done and out of her head, she shrugged once more, deciding it was time to get started on her errand if she wanted any chance of returning before the gates closed.

Shilo came striding into the inn as Lightning was making her way out, Hope stumbling behind him. The Leonin seemed happy, parts of his mane twisted in braids and his feline grin stretched to full capacity. Hope, however, seemed distraught. His hair was mussed like he had just rolled out of bed, and he shook a little as if he were scared of something. Raul greeted them as they walked in, just assumed that they were part of his new arrivals' group, although he had to stare at the Leonin a moment.

"What happened to you?" Light had to ask once she saw Hope's current state.

"All the ladies like his mane," Shilo laughed. "Lots of them thought it wasn't really his and tried to pull it out."

"I feel exposed." Hope scratched the back of his neck. "Women are crazy!"

Light smirked.

"Then they tried to tear off his clothes when he wouldn't let them paint him!" Shilo was on the verge of hysterics. He hadn't had a bad experience with the many swooning young women that wanted to look at him, so he found it amusing and curious when Hope hadn't been so receptive. Although it had been awkward when the lion realized that nobody wanted to paint _on_ him, like he had originally assumed. It was, actually, almost disappointing when they simply asked him to hold very still while they scribbled away on their sketch books and canvases. His first idea would have been more fun.

"I think you'll be all right." Light nodded. "I'll be back in a little while."

"Where are you going?" Hope almost seemed afraid to see her heading for the door.

"Just something I need to take care of, that's all." and then she was out the door.

Light took her time as she made her way to the main gate, mindful of where she stepped and who she passed by. She saw how the bondsmen's eyes would linger on her as she made her way down the street, white slits sunken in darkness that made her feel a little cold. Their numbers seemed to centralize around the plaza, no less than a dozen of them lingering about just out of sight. She could almost feel them at her footsteps, though they weren't there. It was like they were her shadow for brief milliseconds, marking her every move.

Did they know? Could they read her thoughts somehow and had found out what she was doing here? Is that why they were watching so closely? Or was it that she was just strange looking?

A large bondsman walked beside her several steps, acting as if she wasn't there at all. His nostrils flared once just before he started away from her. That was, perhaps, his only reaction to her presence.

Lightning watched the vampire until he was out of sight, turning her head just in time to keep from bumping into someone. Her pace quickened, she wanted out of this city as soon as she could manage. The feeling of staring eyes from every angle left her as she crossed the threshold onto the beaten dirt road. From there she broke into a steady run, not wanting to waste any daylight.

Since she had seen them earlier this morning, Lightning had an idea about the two statues at the head of the road. Now that they were finally here, had a fixed location, she needed to at least try to reach Bradley at the Center. Perhaps those statues would be just high enough.

There was no cooling breeze in the Hinterlands today, and no clouds to block the sun so the air grew hot as the day progressed into late afternoon. Light actually found herself a bit breathless as she reached the statues, sweat rolling down the back of her neck and reddened cheeks. She refused to think she was tired after that little jog, and she sure as hell wasn't going to accept the idea that she was getting too old for this.

Light looked up from Kalitas' stone feet, up towards the top of his head that she could see. After a brief moment to think, she jumped upward and grabbed the crook of his fixed arm, climbing easily until she should sit upon his unmoving shoulders. She then fished into her pocket, finding the device Bradley had given her the day she left. She looked it over, looked for the small switch she need to flip in order to activate it, and then set it carefully atop the head of the statue once the little light started to blink.

"Well," she sighed, "here goes." She flipped open the cellular and put it to her ear after a routine press of several buttons.

She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And then...

"Bradley speaking,"

There was a dull hiss coming through the signal, but his voice was otherwise clear. "Bradley, it's Lightning."

"Farron, glad to finally hear from you," he sounded genuinely surprised. "Everything all right?"

"So far so good, not too much trouble." If she said any more, he would probably have a fit.

"Where are you?"

"Locals call it Arash," she paused a moment to think, "and I don't think you'd believe it unless you saw it. Hard to think something like this has been out here this whole time." and it made her wonder what other secrets Gran Pulse was keeping.

"Sound like fun. So I am to assume things are going well?"

"It's certainly a start." she sounded less than thrilled.

"Everybody getting along?" he asked knowingly. "No one's gotten their head bitten off?"

"No," she scowled a little. "Everyone's on speaking terms at least."

The line was quiet for a moment. "Shepherd is talking?"

"Yeah, even to me."

"I call bullshit."

"Then you'd be wrong."

"You're being smug now, Farron." he tried to hide the laugh.

"Get used to it. How's my family doing?"

"They're doing fine. Baby's good, the farm animals are still alive," he paused, "although the dog refuses to stop pissing on our boots when we go over there. And he looks so proud of himself when he does it too."

Light almost laughed. "Hopefully it won't be too long before we come back, but until then you'll just have to deal with it."

"So nice to know you care, Farron." on the other end he was rolling his eyes. "Is there anything you need?"

"No, we're okay. Just thought I would check in, see how things were going without me."

"Surprisingly well, actually. You were expecting me to be begging you to come back by now, weren't you?"

"Not exactly." now her eyes were rolling. What a dork. "It's good to know you're keeping things under control."

"Naturally. When do you think we'll be hearing from you again?"

"Give me a few days...unless something comes up. Never know with these backwater natives."

"Are they really that bad?" the question was genuine.

"Not that I've seen, but we haven't been here very long. I'll tell you more next time."

"Alright. You take care, Farron."

"Sure, tell Serah I called."

"Of course." And then the connection ended, the hiss suddenly stopping. She stuffed everything back in her pockets, thinking it rather unwise to leave any of her technology on the statue. If it didn't piss of the locals, they would certainly destroy it out of curiosity. Carefully she stepped down, back onto the road, and started back towards the city. Daylight was waning already.

It was nearly sunset, the sky burning crimson as Arash came into view. A crowd was steadily growing about the main gate as people pushed to get inside before the sun went down. Was it really so terrible to be caught out here in the dark? She didn't doubt there were things crawling around out here that she didn't know about, but...was it enough to bring about such a universal phobia?

Light continued down the road, watching the gate without thinking, and definitely not expecting to see anyone trying to leave in such a hurry whoever was on that white mare. People jumped out of the horse's path, not wishing to be trampled. She stopped a moment, watching as the animal and its rider bolted to the east. Wait just one damn minute...

Even from this distance it was clear the rider had but one arm, and a mess of brown hair hiding his face. Where was that old hermit going in such a hurry?

Since they had passed through Oerba the curiosity made him itch. It ached in the marrow of his bones and made his heart throb hard in his chest. It kept him awake at night after the nightmares ripped him from a dead sleep, and it lingered near the front of his mind all the while. He couldn't ignore it any longer, he needed to go.

He needed to go home.

But not back to the farm, not back to the steppe.

His real home.

Teh'Han rode hard as he gripped the horse's mane with his one hand. Out to the east, into the rolling hills and beyond the gorge known as the Devil's Den and its towering falls. Memories surged back into his mind, making his skin feel tight and his jaw clench painfully. It only worsened as he drew close to his destination, a place that was simply an empty stretch of grassland to anyone other than him. The sky grew dark as he came into the land of his birth, Kushta, and the patron Fal'Cie Valefor. Master of the winds, Lord of crows, _Tal'Haddai Pah'Roc_, and protector of this land and all its people.

At least that is what Teh'Han was raised to believe. Not that he could honestly say he did now. He pulled the mare to a steady trot, no longer in such a hurry. His body hunched forward, his back bending as the memories weighed him down. He rubbed his eyes, feeling the burn of tears. All of it was coming back, clear as day, and all at once.

When the horse stopped Han slipped off its back, landing heavily on his feet. He took three steps, three struggling and slow steps, and then fell to his knees. In the lingering light he could see that some of the ground was still scorched, the grass long since dead from being burned. His chest began to heave with restrained sobs, his face tightened as he fought back the sorrow. When he could no longer hold it he bent forward, his palm and forehead pressing into the dirt as he wept. This is where it had happened, where he had lost everything he ever loved.

Sixteen years since he had been to this place, and in that long time he hadn't forgotten a single thing, nor lost the ability to feel the deep pain it had seeded in him. It had been festering, not healing as the years went by. Then again, how could anyone expect to feel better after that, regardless of how much time had passed?

She almost hadn't bothered to follow him this far. Several times she had simply told herself he was ditching them entirely, but she couldn't stop herself from continuing on. Lightning had tailed him all the way out here, never mind that the gates of Arash were closed by now. Part of her needed to know that she had been right about him all along, needed to know that he was a coward. Imagine her surprise when she topped the hill and saw him there, on his knees in the dirt. What in the gods' names was he doing? Was this some sort of Pulsian ritual she didn't know about?

His head was filled the phantasmal echoes of screaming crows, and the terrified cries of men, women and children. The sounds yanked at his heartstrings, forcing more hot tears into his eyes and his sobs to deepen. His hand clutched against his face as he slumped onto his backside. He could feel all of the emotions he had been shoving down, all the hurt and despair of sixteen years, surging into him and demanding to be acknowledged. It was like being flayed alive.

For a brief moment, Lightning wondered if he even knew she was there. She had come this close, now standing next to the mare who couldn't care less what was going on, and he had yet to do anything that even suggested he was aware of her. Although that curiosity quickly died, now that she could hear his tortured cries and felt them tugging at her heart. For the moment, she cared. Though she didn't fully understand why.

"What's your problem?" sure, there were plenty of other, more sensitive ways to ask that question, but can we honestly say that Lightning was one for sensitivity? Really? Fibber.

Han sucked it up, forced himself to stop at the sound of her voice. Perhaps out of reflex. If you hadn't guessed by now, our old fella wasn't one to let his feelings show, lest it be indifference. He wiped his face on his arm, clearing his throat.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked. "Your friends will worry."

"I can take care of myself." she replied flatly. "What about you? What is this place?"

"What do you care?" Han turned his head, almost looking over his shoulder. "Why did you follow me? Thought I was leaving?"

"Yes." she wasn't about to lie to him to spare his feelings. He hadn't earned that privilege yet.

"Hmm...can't say I haven't thought about it. I'm wondering why I haven't...you lot don't need me anymore."

She didn't know what to say, didn't know what the true answer was. Part of her wanted to think he still had some use, the other part couldn't give one less rat's ass.

"I just...I needed to come back here...I needed to see it."

"See what?"

"I was born here...and I have been away for a long time." Han shrugged, almost sounding a little relieved. "Little changed. Myself included."

Lightning crossed her arms, expecting him to say something else if she waited long enough. But he didn't. His inaction forced her miniscule curiosity to grow beyond her ability to ignore it.

"What made you leave?"

Han dipped his head as he took a deep breath. "To fully explain that, I would have to tell you everything. More, I'm sure, than you would care enough to hear." Han knew she didn't care, not one solitary lick did she give a damn. Why she asked in the first place puzzled him. Besides, even Shilo didn't know everything. Then again, he never asked.

"Well," Light said after a moment, "it's not like I have anywhere to go until sun up."

"But you don't have to stay here. I won't bother you with an old man's woes."

Light sighed heavily, tipping back her head and seeing the glimmer of the first few stars in the sky. It took three more steps for her to stand beside him, and a slight bending of her knees for her to sit on the grassy ground.

Han hadn't expected her to do that, not by a long shot, and her gesture of possibly unconscious sincerity made his body tighten. It was almost frightening, more so when she didn't say anything, but he could feel her looking at him through the darkness. She was waiting for him, expecting him to speak.

"Very well." he said at last. "To begin, I suppose I need to explain something. My real name is Teh'Han...and it means 'cursed'." The literal translation was "bad blessing". "On Pulse your name is your very nature, its how the world sees you...and I have lived up to that with very little effort. The day I was born was the day my mother died."

Teh'Han had been the second of two sons, that alone bringing him a bad reputation. Some Pulsian tribes favored women over men, and by some stroke of shitty luck, Teh'Han had been born into one of them. If that wasn't enough, the truth that his birth had taken his mother's life sealed his fate. The other tribesmen saw it as a bad omen, a testament that the gods cared so little for him. Even as an unborn child, they thought Teh'Han to be so selfish that he took his mother's life in order to sustain his own. And, all the while his mother screamed and cried in her efforts to deliver him, the crows gathered in massive murders outside the tent. When they behaved like that, in such numbers, the tribe trembled. No good could come from that or this child.

"My father did not love me, he didn't want to. He ignored me, but why not? I took everything from him. I took his wife, his good name. But my brother...he cared for me...he loved me."

Hattal was five years older, and almost immediately became Han's primary care giver. Naturally there were things he couldn't do for his brother, such as feed him, but if he could, he would. This allowed the siblings to bond very closely, becoming each other's best and only friend. Because of the stigma around Teh'Han and his name, which was the same for the entire family, it was a rare occasion for anyone to even come near them. But it wasn't so terrible. They had each other.

"Then my father disappeared after leaving to hunt."

Actually, between us, he didn't disappear. He simply decided not to come home. He no longer wished to bear the shame of two sons, one of them that the gods clearly despised.

"We took care of ourselves pretty well after that...not that we had any other choice."

No one else would care for them, after all. They had no other family, and the rest of the tribe wasn't obligated to offer any help. Hattal was deemed old enough to maintain the family, and was therefore responsible for their own needs.

"It was, perhaps, my...eleventh summer when my life changed again. My brother was branded by Valefor."

The Fal'Cie had demanded Hattal to be his servant, and had given the young man a clear focus to follow. But, much to Han's dismay at the time, Hattal refused to follow it. His little brother needed him, and he could not leave him alone with no one willing to care for him. Over the next year his brand would change, until finally the change came over him, turning him into a Cie'th. By tribal law, family members were to deal with the problem, doing what was necessary to protect the clan.

"I murdered my own brother...the only person who had ever shown me any kindness. He even asked me to, made me promise because he didn't want to be able to hurt anyone." and the crows had been there too, circling over him as he put a spear through his brother's mangled crystal heart.

"For the next ten years I was completely alone. I had no one, and no one wanted me." his voice was low, heavy, and he shrugged with his hand fisting in his hair. His body ached as the memories passed, changing from one to the next with disturbing clarity. He could remember caring for himself, making his own clothing, feeding himself, tending the sheep and following at the very back of the nomadic group as it migrated every year to escape the winter. He could remember how the other young men his age would stare at him and run away, sometimes laughing and other times frightened. But none of them would dare speak to him or say his name, thinking it would jinx them. Thinking the gods would curse them too and the crows would follow _them_ as well.

But then his life changed again, but in a way he could never have expected.

"And then there she was." his tone had changed again, now lighter. "She came out of nowhere, smiling at me."

"Who?"

"Naya." he smiled to think of her. Her name had meant "guiding light" and she was to him. She led him out of the lonely darkness and showed him the love he never knew.

Naya was the chief's youngest daughter, a beautiful young woman with thick tresses of gold framing her face and falling to her knees. She had been tall even then, a typical trait for Kushtan women, at least three inches or more so than himself. Much to Teh'Han's surprise, Naya simply walked up to him and sat down beside him, smiling and just...looking at him as he repaired a long outgrown sandal. For the longest time she was there, not saying a word. Naturally he was terrified, afraid to lift his head from his work to look at her. An entire hour passed before he couldn't take it anymore.

When he asked what she wanted Naya said nothing, and only giggled at his apparent frustration. To this day, that was the moment he swore he had fallen in love, though he didn't know heads or tails about it. When he saw her smile, saw those stunning blue eyes looking right into his...the rest of the world just vanished.

"Naya was everything to me." he sniffed. "And as much as it bothered everyone else...she didn't care. She loved me anyway."

And it had bothered everyone else. The chief was furious from the start, never mind that it was her daughter's privilege to choose whoever she wanted for a husband. The others seemed to have some unspoken grudge against Teh'Han as well, as to why he couldn't understand. She picked him, he didn't ask for it. Perhaps it was out of jealously. There were plenty of fine young men from good, wealthy families that she could have her pick from, but she chose him. What on earth for?

But the rest of the tribe made their distaste for the arrangement known. Some mornings Han would wake to find his meager flock scattered, or his harvested wool gone entirely. Several times his tent was knocked over in the middle of the night as he slept within. They even went so far as to destroy the wedding clothes that he'd spent months in making, forcing him to start again. Still he took it in stride and with quiet dignity, just as he took the pain of the marriage mark across his back, knowing it would all be worth it once he and Naya were married.

"My luck changed that day, for the better. Or at least that's what it seemed at the time." Han sighed sadly. "I didn't think I could be any happier than she made me, especially on that day."

Naya had been a beautiful bride, and there had been no crows to ruin the day. Han thought it was the first day of his life, everything began again from that point on. He was a new man.

"But, then, as things tend to do, it all changed again. Naya was pregnant." and Lightning couldn't see it, but Han was smiling. A genuine twist of his mouth that expressed genuine joy. "I was so excited, so proud. I wanted to be a father so terribly...I never thought..." and that joy began to fade, the memories of his worst nightmares snatching it away like a vengeful specter.

It had been the middle of the night, only hours after he and Naya had gone to bed, she whispering "_O'ae tiem y'oae_" tenderly in the darkness. One of his hands rested against her swollen belly, his heart fluttering with anticipation. Any day now the child would arrive.

"In one night," he breathed almost too quietly. "It would all be gone."

Author's Note: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I'll be prompt to finish his story on the next chapter. I don't want to over saturate my readers with any one topic, so I thought that would be the best place to cut it off. It looks like Light is starting to give a damn for the old brute, or is it just you? And what about Vanille, haven't seen her in a while? Well, when I do get back to it, some of you will probably wish I didn't. See you next chapter. Oh, and a little edit, I know I said the Sepulcher was in the northeast from Arash, but I got that backwards. Kushta is in the northeast, and the desert is in the northwest. My bad.


	22. Chapter XXI

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"I ran." Han confessed. "I ran because she told me to. And when I stepped outside the tent...I saw the fires."

The camp had been set ablaze by some unseen assailants that barreled through the scattering crowds on horseback, torches and weapons in the air. The elderly were cut down in passing, murdered and falling to the ground as they ran away. Han saw them collapse one by one, some not quite dead and screaming as they expired. Some of the children were snatched up by the menacing shadows, carried off into the dark and crying.

Han ran, but that hadn't saved him either. He remembered the sting of broken ribs from being forced to the ground by heavy bodies and kicked. He fought back as best he could, but to no avail against the much stronger vampires. They held him in a vice grip, one of them socking him in the face, breaking his nose to stop him from struggling. Han remembered the taste of copper in his mouth as blood spilled down his face. The vampires began to drag him away, and all he could do was look back and watch in horror as his world went up in flames.

"So much noise...the sound of people screaming, children crying..._the crows_," he shivered hard, his jaw tight as the words forced their way out. "For the longest time I thought they had left me for good."

But they had been there in great numbers, flickers and blinks of darkness amongst the glowing flames, their eyes crimson dots commingled with the white slits of the vampires. And how they wailed in the shadows. Oh how they wailed.

"I saw Naya," he tried to keep his voice level, sadness trying to break it into gibbering fragments, "at the top of the hill I saw her fighting them off."

The clan split when Naya married, her sister commanding the other half in order to protect their furthest borders. That made Naya chief, and it was her responsibility to do what she could to keep her people safe. She fought bravely, killing two of the invaders.

"And then...she was gone." in the darkness his eyes were wide, teary, refusing to blink as his body began to shake.

A sword through her stomach ended Naya's life, leaving her now widowed husband screaming her name in devastated futility. He cried for her until he hadn't the strength left, only able to whimper pitifully as they slapped irons on his wrist and neck and carted him off with the few survivors they had collected, those good enough to be sold in Arash the following morning.

"I remember...I heard it, though I couldn't see it...my child cried." somehow he knew. It stood out through the din and chaos of what was happening, and he knew it had been the baby. His baby. "Just once. Then nothing."

Lightning gasped quietly, her body tightening. What he didn't describe tried to play itself out in her head, and it was startling.

"You see, I'm not so superstitious as you think I am." he continued after a moment. "I am truly terrified of those people. The side of them I have seen up close...it still frightens me."

What was there to say? She searched her mind for it, some kind of retort or comment, but there was nothing there.

"But you still think me an old coward, don't you? I wouldn't blame you. I've been hiding from it all these years...it's the least you could say."

All things considered, what on earth could she hold against him? Nothing really, not in good conscience. He had every right to run away, but he had swallowed his fear in order to help them. All of sudden she felt like the biggest jackass in all of Gran Pulse.

"But I had to come back, to see what had become of it." Han finished. "It looks like no one's been here for quite some time. Just as well, I suppose."

"No, no," she forced herself to argue gently. A little late, perhaps. "I was wrong. I'm sorry...I had no idea."

"Now you're the only one who does. Well, maybe Shilo, but that cat has a tendency to know more than he lets on." Han replied. "No one has bothered to ask...although I doubt I would have told them if they had."

"So why did you tell me?" last time she checked, Han hated her.

"I'm rather convinced that you won't bother me about it...keep bringing it up, I mean. You don't care."

Was that completely true anymore? Honestly?

"So...if you're so afraid...why did you come?" She needed to know, for fact, his reason. He had hundreds of reasons to say no; what could be possibly good enough to make him say yes?

"At first it was to simply help someone in need." Fang was his sister, as he said, by Pulse. "Then, after I realized what was going on...I thought I could spare someone from my fate. Although...I don't think I came close to suffering the indignities that she surely has by now. If she still lives." he had heard stories, seen it with his own eyes. The life of a slave was terrible, but it was worse for the women.

"You were a slave?"

"For a time. I was sold in the very markets we walked through today." he nodded slowly. "I look back on it now...losing my wife was harder. Nothing else really mattered, only that I wanted to die. I wanted to be with her again. Maybe...maybe coming here will be another chance. If trying to save this girl doesn't kill me, then someone will recognize me and have me put to death for running away."

It wasn't only fear he was facing, it was his own death. Neither of which he seemed to care about. But what was life worth if you had nothing to keep you here?

"I'm sorry." she said again.

"Thank you. But it doesn't change anything." there was an empty laugh in his reply. "I'll never get it back...never feel that joy again. But thank you all the same." all he had was the pain of emptiness in him, and that was poor company. He preferred to simply not allow himself to feel things. It was better.

For the longest while the two of them sat together in the dark, silent, both contemplating. As to what, I don't believe I could tell you with any honest potency. Rest assured it was many things at once, and they addressed each of them with a great depth of consideration.

"Now,"

Lightning flinched, pulled out of her deep thoughts by the sound of his voice.

"Might I ask you a few questions?" all indifference aside, he had his curiosities as well.

"I guess. I've been poking and prodding you enough."

"Hmm," he almost laughed again. "What are _you _afraid of?"

That was a damn intimate question. "Nothing."

"Liar."

"How would you know?"

"I know. Everyone is afraid of something. I won't tell, promise."

She was quiet.

"If you won't say," he sighed, "then let me guess."

Lightning huffed. This should be funny.

"You're afraid of being alone."

And no one was laughing.

_(-)_

Fang woke late that morning, not getting to bed the evening before until after the inn had shut down. She crept the bar all night, just listening and watching, learning what she could as humans and vampires both drank themselves stupid. It didn't yield much, but it had been better than sitting on her duff all night with her thumb up her ass.

With a groan from the stomach she sat up, putting her feet on the floor and running a hard fingered hand across her scalp. The sleep had not been sound, and her body ached with all the tossing and turning and sudden jerks into awareness. She needed to get up and start the day, but a vast majority of her simply didn't want to. It wanted to hide under the covers.

Begrudgingly she stood, stretched, feeling the old scars pulling as her hands rose over her head. Then she slowly dressed, all the while distracted with a flurry of questions in her mind. Where to go searching today? Who to ask if they had seen her anywhere? Who wouldn't say a word one way or another? Maybe she'd get a chance to smack a few them around. That would make her feel better.

She stepped out of her room and down the hall, hearing the _thock_-_thock_ of cloven hooves on the wooden panels coming up behind her. Paused and half turned to see Bard walking towards her.

"Aren't we looking sharp this morning, nanny," she smirked. Tiredly, but smirked anyhow.

"Well, thank yeh very much, miss Fang." he was wearing a pressed shirt, his leather vest was clean, and his hair was brushed back and tied in a tiny tail. He'd even trimmed back his massive mutton chops and polished his hooves.

"Where are you off to dressed like that?"

"I'm going to the conservatory." he seemed very proud to say. "Perhaps yeh would like teh come with me? I'd enjoy the company."

"I dunno...not exactly dressed to go in." compared to him, no she wasn't.

"But I might be needin' protectin'" he gently argued, his eyes pleading as he smirked. "Someone might be tryin' teh do my fragile body harm."

"Aren't you a grown man where you're from?"

"Oh aye, but I'm also a massive coward." he laughed with a hint of a bleat in it. "Won't yeh come with me?"

His amber eyes touched her heart, the way they looked at as a lost puppy would. "Ah, fine, I'll go. Can't ignore a nanny in need."

"Oh har-har. But thanks all the same. After you, good lady."

The streets weren't nearly as busy as one would expect at this hour. But there were reasons for this. It was between auctions, as well as lunch and breakfast, but it was also the first day of the Saints Festival. If the vampires and humans weren't working during the day, they were most likely preparing for the festivities that would come about after sunset. The markets were a little congested, folks buying food for banquets and parties, but that was the long and the short of it.

The two of them made it to the fountain in front of conservatory where Bard paused, his face full of reverence just as it had been the first time he laid eyes on it.

Fang looked the structure over once more, finding a smidgeon of appreciation for it. She put her hands on her hips, thoroughly unconvinced by its splendor. "So...tell me again what this is all about?"

Bard reached into his vest, into the pocket hidden on the inside. He pulled free a softened paper envelope, something that looked to have been folded and unfolded many times.

"My teacher, gods rest his soul, would always talk about this girl. Said she could teach me more, that we could learn from each other. I been wantin' to come here since."

"An old flame of yours?" she smirked.

"Not hardly. Never met the woman in my life." he quirked his eyebrow as he put the paper back in its pocket. "I dinnae ken...she could be some spiteful harpy like you."

"Nanny."

"Bitcheses,"

Fang laughed. "Sorry, can't take that one seriously, I try but I can't."

"It's okay," he smiled, "I dinnae suppose it's meant teh be serious."

"Yeh dinnae?" she tested.

"No I dinnae...you're makin' fun of my accent again, aren't yeh?"

"Oh aye."

"Shut it. Let's go."

And still she laughed as they ascended the steps and walked inside. Like many of Arash's state managed structures, everything was white marble, fine carpets running the length of the corridors and numerous tapestries and paintings decorating the walls. Students and visitors shuffled quietly about from place to place, some of them looking up to see a satyr and a native Pulsian walking among them. Something that, by the expression on their faces and the whispers behind their hands, didn't happen regularly. The pointy nosed receptionist had to do a double-take when she saw them standing on the other side of her fine wooden desk.

"Can...can I help you?" she looked over the rims of her spectacles at them, curious, seemingly unsure of what she was seeing.

"I hope so. I'm lookin' for a Sabine Sinclair, is she in?"

"Do you have an appointment...sir?"

"Ah, no, afraid not. Although," he reached into his vest pocket once more, "I have a letter here from Lord Avon giving me permission," and he handed it to her.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Lord Avon passed away some time ago."

"Oh I know. I'm one of his students from abroad."

"I see..." she unfolded the letter, skimming it, her eyes widening when she spied the familiar signature at the bottom. "Well...in this case," she shook her head and sighed after a moment, "the lady maestro isn't available at the moment, she is in rehearsal."

"That's quite all right, we're willing teh wait." Bard smiled, not deterred in the slightest.

"...Very well."

"Is there a chance we could have a tour of the place? I'd like that very much."

"Well...um, I," she fumbled with an answer, unsure if allowing that would be a good idea. What were satyrs capable of anyway? Could they be trusted, even supervised, in a place as fine as this? And this woman...was she as wild as she looked?

"I...I suppose," she adjusted her glasses, eyes wandering. "Ah, lord magistrate, you're just in time."

"Am I now?" The vampire came striding down the corridor, hands behind his back and brows raised in mild confusion as to the sudden praise. "Is something amiss, Vivian?"

"Not at all, my lord. Um, these two are requesting an audience with Madam Sinclaire and, well,"

The magistrate leaned over her desk slightly, his brow still high. "Well what?"

"They have a letter from Lord Avon."

"Oh? How is that?" he turned his head with one eyebrow now lowered at the visitors in question.

"Posthumously, of course." Bard answered quickly.

"I see. May I?" and the vampire reached for the creased letter that the receptionist still held. He found the signature just as she had, seemingly happy to see it as he smiled warmly. "I miss old John, I do. So which of you knew him?"

"I did, lord magistrate." Bard nodded his head. "I was quite fond of him myself."

"Peculiar looking fellow, aren't you?" he said it more out of curiosity than anything else. "And who's you're friend?" he looked the native woman up and down, as he did most women, and very curious indeed.

"Fang." was her answer, and not a very kind spirited one. Something about his gaze bothered her.

"It's very nice to meet both of you," his grin revealed his fangs.

"The...gentleman wondered about possibly taking a tour of the conservatory while he waited for the Maestro to conclude rehearsal."

"Is that so? Well, I think that can be arranged. I haven't anything pressing at the moment, so I would be happy to. Please, would you kindly follow me."

"Thank yeh very much, my lord." Bard dipped his head in gratitude as the three of them began to walk.

"Oh, please, you can call Tezzim if it suits you. No need to be so formal right now." the vampire laughed a little, a clawed hand waving in dismissal. "So, is there anywhere in particular you would like to see?"

"Whatever you can show me, good sir."

"Very well."

The conservatory seemed to sprawl for miles, endless corridors filled with book depositories and classrooms with a myriad of music and song in numerous styles seeped through. The magistrate appeared excited to show all of it to them, having no reservations as to what they did or didn't see. They stepped into full classrooms, lingering for a few moments to partake in the lesson. Students fretted and paled to see the magistrate, suddenly struck with performance anxiety alongside their instructors. And this was only one wing. Once they had seen the majority of the musical facilities, they went to the west wing to have a look at the tactile arts.

Artists, sculptors, poets, and carpenters were hard at work, honing their craft and seemingly oblivious as the magistrate went through with his guests. That is, until they noticed the satyr, something entirely new, and almost all of them were curious to get a good look at him.

"I'm afraid this is where I spend an unfair amount of my time. I'm not much for music." Tezzim chuckled with a hint of feigned embarrassment. "But that's what the Lady Sinclaire is for."

"Lord Avon would speak very fondly of her," Bard recalled. "Is she really so talented?"

"Oh yes. She is very much adored here in Arash." Tezzim nodded with unrestrained enthusiasm. "She breathed new life into this place. Not to say we ever had a stagnant period, but you understand."

"Oh aye."

"Come again?"

"Yes." Bard rolled his eyes behind the magistrate's back, a bit frustrated to have to explain himself.

"You'll have to forgive me, but your vernacular is new to me." he laughed. "You're awfully quiet, madam. What do you think of our establishment?" Tezzim took an apparent, particular interest in her opinion.

"It's fine enough. This sort of thing was never my strong point, so you'll excuse me if I don't quite...get it."

Bard noticed the tension in Fang's voice, and found himself a little uneasy. Something was bothering her, though he wasn't entirely sure what.

"That's a shame." Tezzim shook his head, sounding genuinely disappointed. "Perhaps your friend here can help you better appreciate it, eh?" and he laughed a little, never seeing how Fang scowled and glared at the back of his head. "So Avon was your teacher? Funny, he never mentioned you."

"I dinnae suppose so, I'm not all that special."

"Maybe you'll allow me to see for myself? After your meeting with the maestro, of course. I am to assume that you are a musician,"

"Aye, I am. Avon said I had good recall, but that was the extent of his praise." Bard laughed sheepishly. No pun, I swear.

To the admission, Tezzim only nodded. He then fished into a pocket in his silk vest that cradled his watch, flipping the cover of it open with the tip of one claw. "Well, Lady Sinclaire should be near finished with this session...let's go and have a listen before she dismisses. Unless, of course, you would like to have a glance at our drama division?"

"Perhaps another time, sir." Bard gratefully declined.

"Very well then."

They made their way back to where Bard and Fang had first come in, and went up a spiraling iron staircase from there to the second floor. There was much more wooden decor up here, in fact the only marble was in the floor tiles and columns. All else were finely varnished facades and entryways. It tended to have better acoustic qualities, you see. This is where the more seasoned musical students practiced, away from the often chaotic noise caused by the beginners downstairs. It is also where the city orchestra conducted rehearsal.

They followed the magistrate as far as the corridor would go, to the largest pair of wooden doors. There were faint whispers of voices and tones coming from the other side. Tezzim reached down towards the handle, finding a telling red tag hanging from the iron fixture.

"They're still in session...just be very quiet, yes?" and he carefully pushed one of the doors open.

The rehearsal chamber was massive, with vaulted, almost chapel like ceiling. Candles kept the space lit along side the afternoon light coming through the spectacular stained glass window within the farthest wall. A rainbow of fragmented colors painted the carpeted floor.

Arash's official orchestra consisted of one hundred musicians and over fifty vocalists, both human and vampire. Though the lot of them were wearing casual garments, they were still very impressive to see. Doubly so to hear. But with an ensemble this large, it took more than one person to manage it properly. There was need for an assistant director in charge of the choir, and another for the percussion section as they were arranged so far from the front.

And, naturally at the forefront of it all, was Maestro Sinclaire. With shoulders square, back straight, and feet together she stood before the orchestra. Her hair was up in its usual manner, tight and restrained, and her glasses rested against her nose as she looked down at the sheet music on the stand just beside her. She was scribbling at it again, making last minute adjustments. Once finished, she shoved the charcoal pencil back into the pocket of her snug, emerald dyed waistcoat.

She adjusted her glasses just so with one hand as the other reached for her conductor's baton.

"Let's start again from the beginning of the opening movement...just after the introductory overture." She said, her voice echoing off the walls and lingering in the vaulted rafters above. "Choir, you _must punctuate_ that opening chord. _Steal_ my attention. Understand?" then she scratched her elbow through the puffy sleeves of her white blouse before raising both hands, a signal that she was ready to start again.

There was a single rush of uniform movement, the musicians at the ready. She tapped out three counts silently with her foot and one hand.

Bard could feel the music in his chest, deep down in his heart, and it humbled him. He was the biggest dork in the room from that very second that the choir erupted into the first chord. He felt his breath fly out of his body and goosebumps cover him from head to toe. Fang caught the look on his face with a wayward glance, you would think the satyr had spontaneously fallen in love at that very moment.

It was a high energy, high drama piece that pounded with heavy connotation of voices, brass, and strings. One might imagine an epic battle between good and evil, or a flight for your life. The maestro's hands counted the cadence in an almost hypnotic rhythm; left, right, up down, one, two, three, four. One hand always kept this motion, while the other would stray away to cue one section's part with a hard, stabbing finger into the air. Other times the accentuating hand would twist into something almost claw like, with fingers half curled and pointed, demanding greater effort, a greater surge of sound.

At the completion of the movement, the maestro appeared to be catching her breath, as if the the music had leeched some life out of her. Perhaps, seeing as she regarded every note as a part of herself, every strain like a drop of blood. Out of her seemingly deep focus she was ripped when the magistrate began clapping. She twisted around, looking somewhat upset.

"With all due respect, lord magistrate," she tried to hide the tightness in her jaw as she spoke, "I thought I was quite clear in my request for privacy during rehearsal."

"Yes, yes," he nodded, still grinning, "but I couldn't resist. You haven't let me hear any of it...my curiosity got the better of me. It sounds absolutely stunning, by the way."

"Your flattery does not impress me, lord magistrate." Sabine said flatly just as she dismissed the orchestra. They would come back in a few hours to continue. "I would assume you need something?"

"I wouldn't suppose it could be considered a need, but," Tezzim hesitated as she started towards him, one eyebrow lifted, her gaze like a blade through him.

"But what?" she clutched the baton in both hands, level with her stomach as her back remained straight as a board.

Sweet Saints, this woman could kill you just by looking at you. "Well, this gentleman here claims to be a student of John's."

Sabine's emerald eyes shifted from the vampire to the satyr in a split second, nearly startling Bard. She looked him up and down in a brief instant. "Do you now? And you are...?"

"Bard of Glanwood, my lady, and I'm very honored teh meet yeh." he offered his hand in greeting, but she wouldn't take it. She only looked at him, more like through him. He slowly recoiled, unsure.

"Maestro Avon was your teacher? Funny, he never talked about you. We were quite close, you see,"

"Oh aye, I know. He spoke often of yeh, and I can see he wasn't lyin'. You're amazing." his hero worship was showing.

"Thank you, though you must forgive me," with an unwavering lack of expression she addressed him, "perhaps you could show me. Let me see what Avon taught you."

Bard's eyes widened, his bushy eyebrows lifting. "Beggin' yeh pardon?"

"Play something for me." and her tone revealed that she was quite serious. Sabine knew most if not all of Avon's pieces, and she wasn't about to just stand and let some...fellow suggest he was the late master's student without proof. She wouldn't allow his name to be sullied by an imposter.

"W-well," Bard swallowed, "what would yeh like to hear, ma'am?"

She was quiet for a moment, the edge of her mouth twisting into a subtle smile. "Can you play the piano?"

"Aye, ma'am." he had mostly played in the pub back home, and it was an old thing, but he could still tickle it like anyone worth their salt.

"Fabulous." the smile grew a little. "Please, this way."

It was an upright, black varnished piano with transparent glass and black marble keys, situated beside the percussion section. With a gesture of her hand Bard took the seat in front of it, lifting the key cover and popping each of his fingers as he settled on him bum, keeping his tail from being tucked beneath his backside. All the while Fang and the magistrate stood by, eager to watch what was unfolding.

"She's something else." The magistrate whispered.

"I can see that." Fang didn't really want to talk to him, didn't like something about him. Maybe it was his eyes.

"Is he a friend of yours?" Tezzim peered across his shoulder at her, almost amused at how she appeared to be avoiding his gaze.

"New acquaintance."

"I see. So what brings you here, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I do mind."

Tezzim smiled in a way that showed all of his pearly front teeth. "Perhaps for the Saints Festival then?"

"Yeah, sure." no need in telling him the truth, there wouldn't be anything he would be more willing tell her than anyone else. "Can't wait."

The magistrate chuckled quietly to himself.

Sabine stood beside the piano, baton still in both hands as she lingered there.

"What would your pleasure be, ma'am?" Bard asked, apparently ready to prove himself.

She took a leisurely step to stand behind him. "Play Aela's Overture."

His eyes widened once more. "You sure, ma'am?"

"I insist." and her replay came out as a sort of hiss.

"Very well." and he shook his head and muttered something under his breath as he spread his hands over the keys. He was wondering why on earth she would pick that?

Aela's Overture was one of Maestro Avon's crowning achievements due to the simple fact that it was hard as fuck to play. Most professionals couldn't do it, and even those who could always made the same mistake. Sabine often prided herself in being one of the chosen few that could flawlessly hammer out the piece. So you can imagine her surprise, and perhaps even vain mortification, as his fingers flew across the keys without hesitation. This...man out of nowhere was doing it. She watched with an expression slowly loosening into disbelief, her jaw slackening and her hands wringing nervously on her baton. He didn't even ask to look at the score as most people did.

With a small grin teasing his mouth Bard went through the frantic motions, pressing the keys in tandem with a master's precision. Nary a slip nor a fumble throughout the few minutes it took to play the entire piece, and that only seemed to serve to agitate Maestro Sinclaire that much more. Her hands wrung tighter.

She wasn't entirely worried though. He would mess up at the end. Just like all the others messed up. Sabine could feel a growing excitement as he twiddled out the last few bars, knowing that he would stop, leaving the last, almost out of place segment undone. However, once again this stranger from far away tarnished her ego.

After striking the ending chord, Bard jumped up from the bench, reaching for the kettle drum right beside him, particularly to the leather sack holding the several different mallets used to play it. He grabbed one of them, hurled it across the room, striking the gong on the far side of the percussion section. At that very same instant, the baton in Sabine's hands snapped in two.

The bastard remembered the gong.

"Bravo!" Tezzim clapped his hands much like he had before. "Bravo, good sir, very impressive!" He tried his damnedest not to notice the maestro's look of awestruck indignation for the moment. "No doubt about who your teacher was now, is there Lady Sinclaire?"

"No," her jaw was tight enough to hurt, and they could hear it. "Not at all."

"Yeh must forgive me for throwin' things." Bard laughed nervously, his hands having a bit of a shake in them over his nerves.

"No apologies necessary," the magistrate insisted. "I found that very entertaining, if a little unconventional. Wouldn't you say, maestro?"

She only nodded her head, appearing to be far too pissed to speak.

Suddenly his face lit up, the slits of his eyes flexing. "I have a paramount idea; why not put him in the opera?"

"Beggin' yeh pardon?"

"_Excuse me_?" Sabine exclaimed. "I barely know this...man! Yes, he can play, but that says very little about any other skills he may have."

"Then let him practice with the orchestra for a little while." he made it sound like it was no trouble at all.

"Lord magistrate, I'm afraid I _must_ protest."

"And your protest it duly noted."

"But I only have a few more days before the debut!"

"Just humor me, won't you, maestro? The audience will love him, and when they love someone they love giving away their money."

Sabine's face was so red she looked on the verge of combustion. After a very tense moment she took a calming breath, the color of her face fading back to a semblance of what was considered normal.

"Very well," she breathed. Like steam escaping an over-pressured valve. "This evening's rehearsal...would that be suffice?"

"I'm afraid I have a standing engagement at the Blue Door in the evenin', ma'am." he dipped his head, feeling slightly embarrassed to say. "But I can be here first thing come the mornin' if it pleases yeh."

"Very well," she took another breath, "that would be fine."

"There, you see? That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Tezzim seemed very pleased with himself. "I'm sure everything will work out swimmingly."

"Of course, lord magistrate." Sabine's jaw had tightened again. "I can't wait." although it was clear that she could. All day long.

"That settles it then. Now, if you'll excuse us, I have to speak to the maestro in private. Feel free to have a closer look around if you like."

"Thank you, sir magistrate, and lady maestro. Good afternoon teh yeh."

Tezzim waited until the visitors had gone before turning to Sabine with the most ridiculous grin.

"You're so beautiful when you're flustered."

"You ass." she sniffed, putting both halves of the baton in one hand as she went back to the conductor's stand. "You did that all on purpose."

"Of course I did. The boy was talented, and I knew you were too egotistical to see."

"The bastard remembered the gong!" she shouted, hands in fists as they shot downward at her sides. "No one remembers that, _I_ remember that!"

"Please, darling, don't be so immature." he rolled his eyes as he came quietly to stand behind her. "So the country bumpkin can play, stop ruffling your skirts about it. That's for me to do."

Another deep, calming breath went in and out of her flared nostrils as his hands fanned down each thigh, the claws pointing into the stressed leather breeches.

"Still, you just need to accept that you weren't John's _only_ favorite. Is that so difficult?"

"_Yes_!" she snarled

"Hush now, love," he purred against her throat, pulling her back and flush against him. "Why not relax for a spell, eh?"

"Hm," Sabine didn't want to, she wanted to be mad, but it was hard to do. His touch was always so soothing. "My lord...let me feel them."

"Oh? Would that make my lady feel better?" one of his hands had risen to her stomach, working at the buttons of her waistcoat. The other was toying with the laces that kept the leather breeches in place. "Would that ease the viper's fury?"

"Yes, my lord. Please." she was begging now, nearly all of the anger snuffed out. "_Please_."

He laughed low, his body vibrating from the chest all around her. He opened his mouth, first smoothing his tongue over the tender flesh along her neck. He felt her shiver, her hands reaching up to tighten in his raven hair.

"My darling," he smiled against her throat. "I can play you like a fiddle, can't I? You hiss and snap and glare...but even so little as a hint from me can have you coiled up in my lap."

"Yes, my lord, you can." she confessed, thinking it would help her get what she wanted faster.

He chuckled again. "Sweet girl, you are." his mouth opened again, his lips peeled back to reveal his sharp, long canines. He pressed the tips of them just so into her skin, the typically proper maestro groaning and writhing in his grip like a common, wanton maiden.

"Tighter," she pleaded breathlessly. "For saints' sake, tighter,"

"Careful what you ask for," he cautioned, his mouth half full. "I may bite...but that's what you want, isn't it?" he already knew the answer. Of course she did. "But not just yet, lover. Not just yet."

"When?" she whimpered. "When, my lord?"

"Ask me again after the opera. I'll have my answer then, I promise. Until then," he took her scent in a slow, deep breath. "Why don't we retire to your apartment?"

_(-)_

"I take it yeh dinnae like him all that much?" Bard wondered aloud as they walked through the district.

"No," Fang shook her head, looking somewhat uncertain. "Something about him,"

"Seemed nice enough teh me." he scratched his head. "Although...the lady maestro came off as a wee..."

"Bitchy?"

"Oh aye, that would be a good word for it. I ken I may have tweaked her nippies a bit."

"You know, saying things like that the way you do is making brooding real difficult," she was fighting off a fit of laughter, feeling as though it wasn't very appropriate.

"Ach, well," he put his hands behind his head, grinning. "Cannae say I like seein' yeh broodin', miss Fang, and that's the truth."

"Thanks for caring." she shrugged, crossing her arms and dipping her head. She stayed that way for the rest of the walk back to the inn, and it worried the satyr to see her so forlorn.

Stepping into the Blue Door greeted them with an interesting sight. The bar was filled with a faint mist that hovered about the higher reaches of the room. It looked to be made up of a multiple colors, all of them mixing together to eventually become something somewhat gray. For a brief moment the two were curious, boggled even as to what caused this, and then their eyes fell on Francisco as he nursed a glass of water at a table. His skin was pie-balled with just as many colors as the mist. His stomach was orange, his chest and part of one arm was blue, his back was purple, and his face was jet black, the white's of his eyes standing out.

"Ah, welcome back," Raul greeted from behind the bar.

"What happened? Someone slaughter a rainbow?" Bad joke, Fang, very bad.

"Not quite," Raul grinned as he stashed a family of beer glasses under the counter. "Francisco fancies himself a bit of an alchemist."

"I don't fancy," Francisco argued with a bit of a cough,"I do."

"And you do wonderfully," the pure blood assured him, "but you have a nasty habit of blowing yourself up."

"You sure as hell don't complain when you need your hair dye." the smaller vampire grumbled.

"Yes, I like to think I thank you quite handsomely. I just wish you would be more careful." and Raul looked at his partner with a kind, almost parental sincerity.

"So that's what yeh do? Yeh make...hair dye?" Bard sounded less than impressed, maybe even disappointed.

"Hair dye, skin dye, tattoo ink," Francisco rattled off the list as if he'd done it a hundred times before. "Cosmetics in general."

"Nifty." Fang nodded once approval. "Well hello there, sunshine. Finally make it back? We were worried about you."

Lightning shrugged, her arms crossed in front of her on the table. "So my errand took a little longer than expected. Didn't get scared, did you?"

"Hell no." Fang laughed, pulling up a chair. "Just worried about the old woman fallin' and breakin' her hip."

"You know," Light took a breath, "you can kiss the flattest part of my ass."

"Sure, but it'd take me all damn day to find it."

Light bit her bottom lip against a nasty retort when the two vampires in the room broke out into hysterical laughter. Bard was fighting it to, snickering behind his hand. Damn, now she had other species laughing at her. And Fang, as usual, was very smug as she turned her attention away.

"Hey, old fella, you look a bit piddly yourself. You okay?"

"Hmm," was his reply as he cradled his head in the crook of his elbow as if attempting to sleep at another table.

"Good answer."

"Leave him alone."

Fang's expression changed abruptly, to something akin to entertained surprised. She looked at Lightning, at her typical scowl, and then to the dozing brute, and then back again. Then she smiled from ear to ear, snickering.

"Am I missin' somethin'?" Bard looked as clueless as he actually was. Sure, he was glad that Fang wasn't so dreary anymore, but he was curious as to what brought on the drastic mood change. What was with the smile? Really?

Lightning's scowl tightened even further. Just as she opened her mouth to inquire further, Shilo came through a door beside the stage. He was carrying what looked to be something awkward and nearly too large for the entryway. Hope was right behind him, looking part curious as to the paper-wrapped object, and part confused over something else entirely. I'll go ahead and tell you about the second part; Shilo was attempting to give him the Leonin version of the "how to be a man" speech. When you look at something like that from an anthropomorphic cat's point of view, I would imagine it would be rather disturbing.

Before Shilo could even explain himself, Raul jumped over the counter top, giddy as a school girl. He clapped his palms in delight, his eyes shimmering. "Finally it's here!"

"What is it?" the Leonin was very curious as he handed it over. Since the delivery boy stepped up to him as he and Hope spoke out back, he couldn't begin to imagine what it could be.

"I've been waiting _weeks_ for this," Raul bit his bottom lip to try and rein in his excitement. He took it from the Leonin and laid it on a table, untying the string that kept the wrapping in place, and then pulled the corners apart to reveal the back of a what looked like a picture frame. A fine wooden one that looked rather expensive.

Everybody stood up, Han being the exception, curious if nothing else to see what the vamp was so giggly about. Raul turned it over before the lot of them had gathered around him, his mouth opening with a silent gasp of admiration. "Sweet saints...it's amazing." he had commissioned the painting from his brother-in-law a long while back, and now it was finally here. He couldn't wait to hang it up.

However, as everyone settled in a semicircle behind him, it appeared right away that he and Francisco were the only ones impressed, or even pleased by the painting. Shilo was curious, perhaps puzzled by the idea of a human body depicted on a canvas in a way that it appeared so lifelike, and Bard seemed on the verge of falling in love with it, but everyone else that looked on...it was like they had seen a ghost.

Raul twisted his head to look over his shoulder, flabbergasted to see the look on the humans' faces. Fang in particular looked exceptionally pale, her face set in silent, horrific disbelief.

"What...what's wrong?" he dared to inquire.

Lightning sighed, realizing no one else was going to say it. She turned her head away and said, "That's her. She's who we're looking for."

Author's Note" Lots of filler again, sorry about that. I should be getting back to the plot real soon, maybe have some action coming up in the next chapter. And, just something I thought would be fun for my readers. I've written a double pun into this chapter, that is something that ties both Final Fantasy and Magic the Gathering as one thing. (Though perhaps a little indirectly.) Here's the deal, whoever can find the double pun and post a review with the answer -naming which final fantasy it's from and the involvement in MTG- FIRST, **will get first dibs on the next chapter upon completion**. You'll get it before fanfic .net, before anyone else. Sound fair? Cool. And here's you're only hint: there's a canary involved.

And to Lazy Mio, glad to hear your well, and thanks for all the feedback!


	23. Chapter XXII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Helm felt the need to find the nearest knife and carve himself out of this accursed thing. The corset didn't fit, or at least if it did, it was ridiculously uncomfortable. How did women stand it? When he finally managed to shimmy out of it he tossed it to the floor with all the consideration one would give a dirty sock.

"Saints be damned, you are a waste!" Helm snarled at the garment. "Burn in hell for all I care!"

All the while the turned vampire fumed, his sire sighed listlessly as he sat at the rickety dining table, his head in his hand. Before he commenced in stomping the corset with his foot, possible breaking one of the valuable bone stays, he noticed Dash's seemingly strange behavior. He paused, one foot in the air and fists over his head, but his face was no longer twisted in fury. Now he was confused.

He had seen Dash come in earlier, perhaps an hour ago, and he had the same look on his pale face as he did now; an expression of...pining perhaps. For what he had no idea. So as not to seem too nosy, Helm went to the bed, fishing through the pile of women's clothes for something else to try on. Honestly, did women go through this ritual every day, baffled by the simple question of what to wear? By the saints, the madness.

"What's with the face, old timer?"

Dash didn't answer at first, but only sighed again, a smile tickling the edges of his mouth.

"Hello?"

Still nothing.

"Hey!" and with a loud _fwump _the only pillow struck his head.

Dash jerked his head back and forth. "Wha?"

"What's with the goo-goo eyes?"

"What? Oh, that," and he started smiling once more. He turned to resume his previous position. "I saw the most beautiful thing in the world."

"You went to the vault, I mean, I understand gold is damn pretty, but I think-,"

"No, no, no," Dash corrected before his charge could finish. "A woman."

"Oh, is that all?" then Helm paused. "Wait a minute, really? You?"

"Most certainly," he replied with a smug tone. "I believe I'm helplessly smitten."

Helm almost couldn't believe it. "So...what did the lass look like? Details, details!"

"She was perfect." he began. "Perfect skin, perfect figure, just..." he could barely think of the right words.

"_Just_ perfect? Honestly, man, give me more. What did she look like?"

"Hmm," Dash sighed again. "Piercing blue eyes...a lance through my heart."

"For saints sake," Helm rolled his eyes, shrugging in a whisper.

"Strong, confident strides. A gorgeous throat, I dare say." he accentuated that last part with an air of astonishment.

"So she was human?"

"I believe so." he nodded. "And she had this most amazing hair, like pale roses."

"A human with pink hair?" Helm cocked an eyebrow at his sire who had now turned in his chair to look at him. "You're out of your mind."

Dash's expression flattened, his brow darkening his eyes. "Says the man holding a bra."

"Look, _I'm working_ while you sit over there wasting precious time."

"As if you wouldn't have done the same thing?"

"We're not talking about me." Helm countered. "Now get over here and try something on."

"This is outrageous." Dash shook his head as he stood. "I'm not wearing that."

"I'm not asking you to. You can wear this." and he picked up the corset from the floor.

"Why me?"

"With your belly bulge, if we cinch this just right it'll look like you really have breasts _and_ an ass! I won't have to make you fake ones!" Helm smiled as if it would help at all.

Dash's face flattened again. "This, I must say, has to be your worst idea ever."

"Oh no." he denied. "Remember the lard cannon?"

"Sweet saints alive," Dash cringed. "I almost forgot about that. Here, help me with this, won't you?"

Begrudgingly Helm helped his sire with the corset, thinking it best to discuss something else. "So what else can you tell me about this 'perfect woman'? She got a name?"

"I'm afraid I didn't catch it. I was far too terrified of the brute in her shadow. If looks could kill..." and he shivered.

"You're such a girl sometimes." Helm furrowed his brow as he struggled with some of the laces. "Suck it in."

"I'm trying! Ow, not so tight!"

"It's supposed to fit like this."

"Really? No wonder Arashi women are so damn cranky." and then he made a face like a toad being run over by an ox-cart, his eyes big and his cheeks puffed as Helm pulled the laces as tight as they could be. "Can't...breathe..."

"Sorry," and he let go, allowing his sire to draw breath. "You should've tried to talk to her."

"And risk being pounded into butter? No thank you. What if that man was her husband?"

"So? Sometimes you just have to reach out and take what you want. I've been doing it for the last few weeks."

"And that means...?"

"You need to be more manly, like me. Now help me fasten this damn bra."

_(-)_

Han couldn't see what was going on, couldn't see the painting that everyone was hovering over, but he could feel the heavy, twisting weight of the tension that had built up in the bar. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

Fang couldn't breathe. She tried, her mind was telling her to take a breath, but there was no having it. Weakness was working its way into her knees, threatening to put her on the floor. She simply couldn't process what she was looking at. She was horrified, disgusted. The painting...she couldn't believe it.

"Where did you get this?" Lightning's gaze cut to Raul.

Raul took the painting off the table, pressing it against him as if to hide it. He looked troubled now as well. "I am so sorry...um, my brother-in-law is a painter..."

"Who's your in-law?" Lighting's tone was interrogating.

"Well...he isn't really...not on paper..." he muddled through the details, fearing the woman's severe glare. "The lord magistrate...he and I get along rather well. He actually did most of the portraits in the inn."

"I just saw that bastard this morning!" Fang snapped suddenly, her fists at her side. "I'm going back,"

"Now, now, I understand how you feel, but let's not get ahead of ourselves." Raul knew what Fang was going through, knew very well, but he also knew that it could do more harm than good to let it loose. "Please, let's think this through."

"Think hell!" Fang started forward, her steps heavy and meaningful until Shilo stepped in her way. "Move it, pussy!"

"Miss Fang, please," Raul lifted his voice, praying someone would hear before things got nasty. "Could I talk to you in private for a moment?"

For the longest, tense moment, Fang stared at the Leonin, meeting his gaze without relent. Then she twisted her head to look at the vampire, still looking furious.

"Please?" he requested, his tone gentle again.

With a heavy exhale she relented, honestly not wanting to have to put the lion on his ass. She followed Raul's direction to the door beside the stage. He held back a brief second, giving everyone an assuring wink before disappearing.

Raul led Fang into his office, the door of it not exactly well kept, damaged from the apparently numerous mishaps in Francisco's workshop across the short hallway. It was pocked with singe marks and all sorts of cracks. But at least everything on the other side was well kept. Bookshelves stuffed with books and loose papers and scrolls stood in three places on the walls, portraits filling in the spaces that they could not fill. All of the paintings had the same artist's signature as the one he had just received. He carried it with him, laying it against the wall before sitting at his desk.

"Please, sit down." he offered.

She was still very agitated, he could see it in her face. The tightness around her eyes and how her arms crossed over her chest when she sat down.

"You know, I've noticed," she started, "how all these portraits are of women...but you don't really care for them, do you?"

Raul lifted one eyebrow, smirking a bit. "No, they're more for the customers...but that wasn't what you meant, was it?"

"Nah."

"So you figured it out?" he laughed a little. "Most folks don't."

"I'd imagine not." Fangs smirked, her fury starting to die off. "_Fattah_."

Raul nodded, somewhat amused to hear the Pulsian word for it. "But, back to the point; I wasn't exactly lying when I said the magistrate was my in-law, but still wasn't when I said that he was not."

"I see. You're the one nobody talks about, then?"

"I suppose, yes." He laced his fingers together and let them rest on top the desk. "Though Tezzim and I, in fact his whole family, have a very good relationship. My little sister is his twin brother's wife."

"Ah." she nodded. "Tell me more about this guy? I met him just today...can't say I had a good feeling about him."

Raul sighed, his brow lowering over his eyes. "Unfortunately that is fairly normal, and not ill-earned either. Some of the things I've heard regarding him...well I'll just say they're less than good."

"Elaborate."

"You really don't want me to, not unless I have to." he watched her expression turn grave. "There's no need for that. Don't think intimidating me will get you anywhere."

"Call it a habit." Fang started chewing on the corner of her mouth.

"Still, I didn't bring you back here to talk about him." his tone changed to something a little more serious. Not so much serious as professional. "So, the girl in the painting, she's your sister?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what I wanted to say is that, upon a closer look, I realized I had indeed seen her before. You'll have to excuse my previous answer. I tend to be a bit terrible with faces, but it was some time ago as well."

"When?" she could feel the warm glow of hope in her chest, though it was being chastised by a mixture of lingering anger and mild dread.

"Perhaps...oh, maybe three months ago, give or take?" he tapped his chin with one claw as he tried to think back. "I was looking to buy someone new for the bar...don't give me that look; if you have to know, I release them roughly a year later, once they've made their cost back. I have a business to run."

"I know. Sorry."

"I understand your apparent distrust, but give me a little more credit, would you? Anyhow, I had intended to buy her."

One of Fang's eyebrows lifted. "What happened?"

"Simple. I was outbid." he shrugged after a moment. "My sister is very kind to give me a sizable allowance while the rest of the family pretends I don't exist, but it wasn't enough to give what that bitch was asking for."

"Bitch? What bitch?"

"Her name is Miriam, she's one of my brother-in-law's charges. That is Hassan, not the magistrate."

Fang nodded, eager for him to continue.

"But she has more money than most of the folks in her district, so...I can only assume the harpy bought her."

Fang felt her entire body tense. "What does that mean?"

"It can mean a lot of things. I've heard so many terrible things about that woman." he shook his head, despairing. "With that aside, however, the painting is a good sign that she is indeed still alive. The bad thing is that she may still be Miriam's property."

"So? Where's the broad live?" she was quite fed up with this. She needed to make progress or she was going to pull her own teeth out.

"Now, now, let's not hurry this. I wanted to talk this over with _you_ because I know how important this is to you, but I also thought you would be wise about it."

She started to chew on her lip again, taking a deep breath. "Listen...for the last few weeks, I've been going through a living _hell_ worrying about her. She's all I've got, she's my family. I'm sick of waiting."

"Believe me, I understand, I do. No one knows better than me what you're dealing with, but we can't rush headlong into this. Considering the entire city depends on the human market, you need to take a moment and consider the measures that have been put in place to preserve it."

Damn it all. He had a perfect point.

"So what do I do?"

"Well, since I could be prosecuted if it ever gets out that I'm helping you, I'm not going to tell you what to do." He smirked in a funny way at her look of befuddled annoyance. "However, if I _just so happen_ to mention that Miriam lives in the Kalitas district, I don't suppose it would be so bad. I mean, just for the sake of the argument."

Now she understood. Slick bastard.

"That, or that she _just might_ have a broken window that would be perfect for sneaking through under the cover of darkness. Which is rather convenient considering the first night of the Saints Festival is tomorrow and everyone will be there. But we're just chit-chatting like good friends, right? Nothing particularly criminal in that, right?"

"Of course not." she almost laughed. "And, since we're on the subject, I suppose it would be a fancy idea that perhaps Bard could innocently inquire about such a beautiful model with the magistrate while he visits the conservatory."

"Now you're talking." and Raul appeared very pleased, like he had done something good. "Although, one thing I will say to you directly...you must be careful. And try not to let anything follow you back here, yes?"

She couldn't make any promises, except to try.

It was still quiet out in the bar. Everyone seemed stuck to their place. Hope had been in his place a solid ten minutes maybe, scratching the back of his neck. His face was red and yet his expression was deeply troubling. Bard shuffled away to have a seat, his hooves knocking the wooden panels on the floor until he sat down. Lightning looked around the room from where she stood, Hope and Francisco beside her, her brow tight in the middle. Her mind was buzzing, trying to process everything at once. There was much more bouncing about between her ears than you might imagine, more so than just the event that had just unfurled moments ago. That was just at the top of the totem pole.

All of these things were coming together almost too well. Honestly. It was like they were meeting all the right people at the right time. Typically it wasn't such a bad thing, but it was constantly happening. Not that it wasn't helpful, but it couldn't just be coincidence. She knew it, it was that damn four letter word again, there was no ignoring it. That thing the lot of them had spent a thirteen day chunk of their lives fighting tooth and nail against. I mean, what were the odds of all this happening in just this way?

But that was only part of it, maybe half of what was on her mind.

Her gaze settled on Han as he dwindled between asleep and awake. She almost scowled, feeling a tingle of resentment that tightened in her chest.

_You're afraid of being alone._

It had little do with anything pressing at the moment, but the statement made the night before lingered and chewed on the edge of her mind. It was a hell of a thing for him to say, something she shrugged off at first as total nonsense. But then it sank in, then it started ringing somewhat true. How could he have possibly known that? Well, it wasn't like she tried to hide it, not consciously anyhow. She was very protective of her sister, never mind that she was married, she mothered everyone without even thinking about it, and she kept anyone else at arm's length.

These were traits, she realized when she considered it, of someone who was rather antisocial but needed a close-knit family unit to uphold in order to function. Once a soldier, always a soldier, and she dreaded the idea of being one without a mission. Serah was moving on, Hope had grown up, and who knows what would happen to all of them once this endeavor had ended. What was she going to do with herself?

Still, how in the hell did he know? Light didn't ask, expecting some cryptic answer.

"What are we going to do now?" Hope's voice sounded a bit dry. He appeared troubled, confused, maybe even a little lost.

"Nothing's changed." Lightning's answer was quick. "We continue as planned."

"And what is our plan, exactly?" Bard had been wondering that since they got here, if for no other reason than curiosity. "I dinnae mean to be a pain, of course,"

"We keep our ears and eyes open. For now that's all we've got." then she looked at the satyr. "Did you learn anything?"

"Well, not much, I'm afraid, but I was only there for but a short while. However I'm due back there again in the mornin', mayhaps I'll have a chance at somethin'."

"With the festival starting soon," Francisco added, "we'll be getting massive crowds at night and all of them are sure to be rather drunk, thus very talkative. Maybe, if you won't balk at the suggestion, we could hang the painting here in the main area, someone might recognize her."

"I doubt Miss Fang will be pleased about that." Shilo crossed his arms, vocalizing what everyone was already thinking.

"She'll have to deal with it. At this rate we can't afford any niceties." and then Light started for the stairs that went to the ground floor.

"Where are yeh headed off to now?" Bard twisted his neck to watch her walk behind him.

"Bed."

_(II)_

_**(If you're sensitive about explicit situations, you may want to skip some of this section.)**_

The Kalitas household, in its entirety, was on edge.

Early this morning, before the sun even thought about getting up to start the day, Lady Kasa had called Donovan with complaints of discomfort, even pain. Since then everyone was in a tizzy, half scared and half thrilled. By the sounds of it, it was only a matter of hours before the lady of the house went into labor. But that could go one of two ways, so you can imagine why some were reserved in their excitement.

Now it was in the late afternoon, and not a word of news to be heard as to Kasa's current condition. However, it couldn't be all that serious if the master of the house had not returned from the citadel. Surely he would come rushing back were his mate to become on the verge of delivery. If you even caught a glimpse of him dashing through the square, you would be considered lucky as hell. But that had yet to happen, not that the likelihood wasn't there.

With Kasa being otherwise occupied, that gave Vanille an almost unofficial day off. And that, turns out, was a good thing, as she had not the physical ability to get out of bed at the needed time this morning. She was exhausted, head hanging and shoulders sagging, feet dragging tired. She slumped into the kitchen, just able to reach the bench before flopping into a sitting position.

"Deary, you look a fright!" Beth exclaimed, having heard the sound and turned to see what caused it. "What's the matter?"

Vanille turned her head until her chin rested against the table, opening her eyes just enough where she peered over the rise of her forearm and between the bangs hanging in her face. "Tired." she said, listless.

"You look damn near dead," her expression showed how little convinced she was with Vanille's answer. She had seen this a time or two before, the culprit typically being the master's over feeding. She guessed this right away when she noticed how the girl's palm seemed suctioned to the side of her neck.

"It's been a long week." very long, too long than she cared to recall. It had been several days of hell. Physical and emotional hell.

"Well, don't you worry," Beth was trying to sound cheerful, encouraging. "Let me get something in your belly. It'll help."

Though she was quite convinced it wouldn't. It wouldn't stop her owner from using her the way he did, it wouldn't make the inner ache of humiliation go away. But at least she wouldn't be hungry. Some consolation.

Beth first made her some tea, something smelling sweet of cinnamon and apple that filled her with a warmth she didn't realize she needed. It made her sleepy, actually, comfortable. When she had finished that, Beth brought a plate of assorted foods, mostly red meat and fruit, something to help her replenish her body after having lost so much blood. And a tall glass of milk sweetened with sugar for a little extra boost. It was normal procedure for cases like this. Sugar and iron was the best medicine.

Vanille picked at the meal at first, having trouble finding her appetite. It took the first few bites to make her realize just how empty she was feeling.

"There you go," Beth seemed pleased once she had begun to eat in earnest. "Isn't that better?"

Vanille nodded, her mouth full. She swallowed, spying one of the last things on her plate. "What's that?" it looked like a cake of some kind, but it didn't smell like any cake she'd ever eaten.

"Try it." Beth said, her tone knowing.

She picked a small piece of it off with her fingers and put it in her mouth, her expression shifting abruptly into surprise. It tasted like warm, soft pennies, the same copper flavor with hints of onions and other spices.

"Blood pudding."

The color left Vanille's face. What color was in it to start with.

"It's pig, it won't kill you." she laughed a little. "But you should finish it, all right? It'll help."

For a brief moment she entertained the possibility of dying being better than that.

"If you finish it all, I'll give you some of the cookies I've got in the oven."

And who didn't love cookies right out of the oven? Pinko commies, that's who.

She did her best to push it down in spite of knowing what was in it, realizing after she gave it a few minutes to settle, that she did feel much better. She didn't feel so sleepy.

"That's a girl." Beth smiled. She came to sit down beside Vanille, a saucer in her hands with two of the freshly baked cookies on it. Immediately she could tell there was chocolate in them. Thank the gods for small favors. The first bite was like heaven. Chocolate and the soft snap of nuts.

"Good?"

"Amazing." no hesitation, just mild euphoria.

"They're the master's favorite too." Beth added in passing, taking a bite herself.

With that being said, Vanille couldn't imagine anyone _not_ having these as their favorite. Even the Devil himself would be hard pressed not to like them.

"Though I didn't see you as the type for sweets."

"I'm a teenager," Vanille laughed a bit.

"Ah, that's right." she nodded.

Suddenly the door of kitchen swung open, more like ripped open, a young fellow poking his head inside long enough to shout "The missus has gone into labor! The baby's coming!" and then he was gone again.

The kitchen went completely silent, the few servants in there frozen with the same, awestruck expression. For the longest moment it was just like that, stock still and quiet, and then everyone went back to what they were doing. All of them were anxious, you could feel it hanging in the air.

Vanille was anxious as well, whilst the rest of her was feverishly praying that the delivery would be successful. If all went as it should, today was the first of the last thirty days of her servitude. One more month and then she could go home.

"How thrilling," Beth was giddy, grinning from ear to ear. "I wonder if it'll be a boy."

"Does it really matter?"

"Well, no, it's just seems like the master's family had a habit for boys. Maybe it'll be twins!"

At this rate, Vanille didn't much care how many of them, or what gender they were. Only that they came. But she entertained the idea for a short moment, cringing at the idea of another pair of vamps molesting the servants and dry humping them behind a column. Yes, the joyous merriment to be had by all over such a prestigious occasion. Now please excuse me whilst I stick a finger down my throat and go _eck_!

"Donovan and I wanted to have children...eventually." Beth sighed, almost sad to say. "I would imagine they would be your age by now if we'd had them when wanted to."

Vanille spied the distant look on her scarred face, curious. "Why didn't you?"

"Well," she paused a moment, her brow furrowed in her search for the right words. "By all rights, anything that belongs to us really belongs to the master. If we had any children, they would be his property. Not that I think for a minute that he would have separated us from them, just...I don't want that for anyone, much less my own family."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's all right." Beth brushed it off, smiling once again. "We're old folks anyhow. Maybe we'll adopt."

"Can slaves do that?"

"Not right now, deary," she laughed. "The master's going to release us soon after the child comes. Donovan and I have been groomin' replacements for years. Hassan's a good man, he is."

Yeah. Good. Sure.

"Aren't you happy for him?"

Yes would be a lie, and no would be an incomplete truth. The idea of new life in the world always brought her joy, it was part of her nature, but now...she couldn't decide either way for sure. On the one side, a man like him was reproducing, on the other hand, maybe now he would leave her alone and stop using her to warm his bed at night.

But that still left his brother...

Beth saw the contemplation in her face, guessing as to what was going on in her head. Finally she put a motherly arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"It's all right, deary. No one would think any less of you if you weren't."

It felt good to be held, if for just a moment, and not feel trapped. It was the embrace of someone who gave a damn, not the empty grip of a lustful man. Vanille allowed herself to live in it for a moment, to experience the affection of a mother she never had. It let her escape for a little while.

As you might have imagined, word spread to the point where Affir left the villa entirely to inform Hassan. The council session was on the cusp of conclusion when the bondsman reached his charge, who came running home just like I said he would. He was a blur of hurry through the door, across the antechamber, and down the hall to his wife's room. Servants stepped aside to allow him a clear path, certainly not of the mind to get steamrolled by anyone, much less their owner. By the time the door closed behind him, and all anyone could hear were the muffled cries of a woman in labor, the entire villa was brimming with the anxiety that had started in the kitchen.

It carried on into the night, long after the sun went down and the moon began to shine in its waning stages. There was little movement throughout the house, even as the morning shift went to bed and the night shift emerged for work. And not all of the morning shift went straight to bed, no. Many of them lingered at the kitchen table, eager to find out what was going to happen. Would the baby finally come?

Everyone was waiting with bated breath.

It was around midnight when the door to the kitchen opened and Donovan stepped through, his hands sticky and his white shirt stained with blood. He looked weary, his eyes slightly reddened with fatigue. But he seemed pleased, relieved. He stood in the doorway, looking at the dozens of servants looking at him and waiting for news.

"It's a boy."

Everyone jumped up, cheering and hugging one another with exclamations of joy. Beth ran to her husband and embraced him, kissing his cheek as he tried his best to reach the sink to wash his hands. He didn't want his wife hugging a filthy man. Vanille stayed where she was, not entirely joyous, but relieved as she thought many of the others were. So many had been waiting for this to happen, and after so many failures it finally had. Were many of them to be released soon, like her and Beth, now that the child was born? That was cause enough for celebration.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, turning her head to see Donovan standing over her. The lines in his face seemed darker, deeper, as if his age progressed somehow during the time he spent in the madam's room.

"The master would like to see you." he said.

Vanille felt herself swallow hard without thinking about it. Dear gods, what did he want now? A celebratory fuck? For a moment she simply sat there, her gaze averted from him for a time before it settled on him once again.

"Will you come with me?" her plea was childlike, but genuine still.

"Of course." and he offered his hand to help her stand, though now she had the strength to do so on her own.

Vanille followed close behind him, her eyes easing from left to right as she went like she was expecting to see something in the shadows. But there was nothing, at least, not that she could easily pick out. Just darkness between the columns, moonlight through the open windows. Nothing else.

Hassan stood up from kneeling on the floor when he heard the door creak open. It was a swift, almost snapping motion in his knees that set up-right and then striding across the marble floor like whisper to meet them. His arms swept around the doctor straight away, pulling the human against his master in a tight, loving embrace.

"I cannot thank you enough." Hassan said softly. In the dim light of several oil lamps you could see the shimmering remnants of tears on the Bloodchief's cheeks. When the two separated, the vampire turned his head, his expression brightening at the sight of her. "There you are,"

She flinched inwardly when he smiled at her.

"Thank you for bringing her, Donovan, you're dismissed. Get some sleep."

"Thank you, master." and the doctor bowed before taking his much deserved leave.

Vanille didn't want to be here without him. She felt so vulnerable, never mind that Kasa was still in the room. True, she wasn't alone with him, but this was bad enough.

"Come, come," he gestured with his clawed hand for her to follow. "Come and see,"

Hassan guided her to the far side of the bed, into the glow of a lamp where she could rightly Kasa cradling the newborn in her arms as she rested against a veritable mountain of pillows. She seemed weary, sweat dappling her face, and rightly so. She seemed on the verge of sleep, her eyelids appearing heavy and blinking even in the dim light.

The infant was unlike any Vanille had ever seen. It was pale all over, appearing dead, not at all like a human baby. Part of her resisted the idea of it, finding the child unnatural. But that feeling, in itself, was unnatural for her, so it quickly passed as the infant stirred within the folds of the blanket surrounding its fragile form. The thick patch of straight black hair atop its head had a brilliant crimson sheen in the light of the lamp.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hassan sounded like he was about start crying again.

She nodded. "Yes," emerged from her mouth a reflexive response, though not entirely dishonest. He was a cute child, she couldn't deny that with any confidence.

"Would you like to hold him?"

She looked to her master, only mildly terrified. He only smiled at her, then gently called to his wife to rouse her from sleep enough that she could hand the baby to him.

"See, not so hard," he whispered, beaming still as he allowed his infant son to settle into the servant's arms. "There. You're a natural."

Vanille hadn't expected the baby to feel so warm, so unlike his species. But he was, and she could even feel the throb of his heart. His tiny arms searched, fingers curling in the empty air for something, maybe nothing. Through half parted eyelids the child looked up at her, the tiny slits within fluxing slightly to take her image into focus. For a brief moment she felt something good, like this was indeed natural for her, but it didn't last very long. After all, it wasn't her child, it wasn't even her kind.

"Look, love, I think the boy likes her,"

"Hmm," Kasa sighed tiredly. "Just like his father,"

Vanille felt herself wince. "M-master?"

"Yes?"

"If I might ask," she hesitated for a breath. "What did you want?"

"Oh yes, excuse me for getting distracted." he laughed a little. "But the missus and I were thinking; we've been considering names for the baby for quite some time, as you can very well imagine, however, I had a thought,"

She waited for him to continue, knowing he would by his tone.

"The two of us realized, even with Donovan here, this wouldn't have been possible without you. You saved my wife, and my son's life, so we thought it only appropriate that you name him."

Vanille tensed. "R-really? Me?"

"Yes, you. We would be honored, wouldn't we, darling?" He looked to his wife who only nodded.

In all honesty, she didn't want to. Even if she did, she didn't know what to say. What did she know about naming children, aside from the fact that your name was your nature? And, all of the aside, the pressure was not helping. Hassan held his eyes on her, she could feel them, and it wasn't making this any easier.

"Perhaps there's something in your native language that would fit him?" Hassan wasn't well versed in the Pulsian dialects, though they fascinated him.

Perhaps, she thought. Perhaps.

She thought about it and thought about it, all the while looking down at the vampire in her arms, watching him squirm a little.

"Haddai," she said after a long moment. Then nodded, seeming satisfied with her choice.

"What does it mean?" Hassan was eager to know, showing no disapproval so far.

"King."

Hassan smiled, gripping his wife's hand from where it rested against her now much smaller belly. "What do you think, my love?"

"It suits him. He will grow into it very well."

And the fact that it was a loose derivative of his father's name didn't hurt.

"Yes," Hassan nodded, releasing Kasa's hand that he might hold his son. "My boy will be a king someday. But for now he will be my precious little prince." and he held the infant close to his chest.

Now the baby was beginning to fuss, perhaps tired of being passed off so much between strangers. He squirmed and struggled in his father's arms, one loud screech demanding he be returned to his mother.

"So insistent already," Hassan chuckled, giving into the wordless command. He then looked back to Vanille. "Thank you again. For everything."

She only nodded, not entirely sure what the proper answer would be.

"You may retire now, if you like."

"Thank you, master." and she dipped her head, half-bowing as she turned on her heels, eager to leave. She wanted to go to bed, but not as badly as she simply wanted to get there as quickly as possible. The sooner she was out of the hallway the better. This is what a sitting duck must feel like, she thought for a moment.

_Thirty days_.

The idea filled her with hope. Finally, freedom was in sight. Just one more month and she could go home. It put a spring her step, the hint of a smile on her face.

Just thirty more days and this bad dream would end. But, with that being said, consider a moment this one simple truth.

It's darkest before dawn, the nightmare much more terrifying just before you wake up.

"Oh, little one, could you come here a moment?"

Vanille froze at the sing-song voice that echoed down the corridor from behind. Her bare feet skid across marble, squeaking with the sudden cease of motion. Her entire body tensed, part of her simply refusing to turn and acknowledge the request.

"I promise I won't keep you long."

Tezzim sounded like the serpent in Eden, sweet words and grim consequences.

If she didn't move, she thought, he would come and get her anyway. He would make her obey regardless of what she did. She knew it. So, against her better judgment, (as if a slave had such luxury) she turned and started back the way she had come.

"There's a good girl." he hissed as she came to stand before him. "Won't you come in? There's something I'd like to show you."

For a second it threw her off to see him fully clothed, still dressed in his formal wear that he typically sported while he was at the conservatory, but it didn't last. Her guard was up, her eyes fixed on him as it would offer her some modicum of protection against any plan he might have.

His room was still a disaster area, though now the once half-finished statue and a dozen paintings were missing. Vanille stood stuck just inside the doorway, unable to allow herself to go any further. She watched him cross the floor to the littered and unkempt desk near his mussed bed where he lit a lamp. He turned back to see her still there and then smiled.

"Come now, you can't see anything from over there."

She couldn't move, she couldn't speak.

"Please," he had a hint of whine in his voice. "I don't want to have to be a tattle-tail and tell brother you're being a bad girl."

That changed her attitude rather suddenly. Even a whisper of something going amiss in the house in her master's ear could hurt her chances of getting out of here. You can imagine her renewed desire to get a move on. However, she could only stand to be so close to him, perhaps twice as far as her arm could reach from shoulder to fingertip.

"Oh come here," he half grumbled, "I won't bite." he curled a heavily muscled arm around her and drew her in, into the light of the oil lamp.

She resisted, but only so much, not enough to stop him. Her mind was telling her not to move, to stay put, but her body couldn't obey the order.

His desk was covered with pieces of paper, loose sketches strewn every which way they could be. Most of them were rough figures, unfinished and nondescript. It was his way of studying when he needed to do a sculpture, allowing him to have a constant reference as he worked.

"I was at the conservatory today," he began, his voice level and curious in a way. "And I came upon the most interesting thing. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. Have a look,"

It was one of the few finished sketches. He handed her the piece of paper, which she took with a cautious hand to have a closer look at it. It was a man, at least it looked like a man by the square jaw, but he had horns and floppy ears and bucked teeth. She mentally confessed that she hadn't seen anything like that either.

"A frightfully talented musician that fellow, he'll be in the opera this coming week. Perhaps big brother will allow you to came and see it with us?" he laughed a little. "But then there was something else,"

Vanille handed him back the sheet of paper, her heart rate picking up as she waited to hear and see what else he had.

"He had a lady with him, a staggeringly beautiful one at that." Tezzim started again. "There was something...wild about her, something primitive yet noble. And what amazing blue eyes."

Something about his voice had changed as he described what he saw, searching through papers as he spoke. It was...how to describe it...it was like he knew something he wasn't sharing. In reality he did, but Vanille was none the wiser to it.

It hadn't been the strange woman's beauty that caught his interest, not at first. It had been something else, something he didn't typically dwell on when he saw a pretty girl. Her scent. Something about it was...familiar, like he'd smelled it somewhere before. When he came home this evening, itching to get the image onto paper before he lost it, he realized what it was. He caught a whiff of it as he walked through the villa and it excited him.

It was her. That wild woman with the dark hair and blue eyes had a hint of Vanille's scent on her. Imagine, for moment, how his mind buzzed as to why this could be? When he couldn't come up with the answer, he had an idea but no straight answer, he went into his brother's room and into his desk for the girl's paperwork. There he found that she did have living relatives as recorded by the staff at the auction house where she was first sold.

Tezzim handed her the other sketch and watched her, dying to see her reaction. Even when her face showed no change, the rest of her body screamed. He could hear her blood quicken, her heart racing, and all of her muscles tightened at once. Oh this was too much fun.

Vanille tried not to react, did her best not show any sign of how she was feeling when the image on the paper sank in. It was Fang, no doubt about it. She was here and Tezzim had seen her. Was she really so close by?

"Who is she?" Tezzim asked, his arms crossed as his eyes settled on her, slits nearly invisible.

"I don't know." she lied, handing the paper back to him. "Never seen her before."

He grinned, fangs showing. "Are you sure? You wouldn't fib to me, would you?"

She couldn't answer. She felt herself starting to shake and she was unable to look at him.

Tezzim much enjoyed watching her cower the way she did. It was amusing to see her squirm and try to hide in plain sight that way.

"Really? Not familiar? Very well." he sighed, as if giving up. "Although, before you go..."

Vanille had almost chanced walking out right that second, her hips flinched in hopes of making the first motion towards a hasty retreat.

"Would you mind helping me out these clothes? I've been in them all day and I'm simply exhausted."

_Jesus Christ. Someone just kill me now_.

Cringing and heartbroken she complied, having no other choice in the matter. She started with the buttons of his waistcoat, keeping her head down so she wouldn't see the smug grin pulling the corners of his mouth. One by one she pried the brass tokens free and then pulled the garment from his shoulders. He took it from her and simply tossed it to the floor, as if it meant nothing. Then he sat down in the plush chair behind him, sitting in just a way that his chest stuck out, a gesture meant to direct her to the next article he wished to be removed.

Laces cinched the collar of the white tunic, which she did her best to untie quickly. He laughed quietly as her shaking hands fumbled ceaselessly. When she finally succeeded he lifted his arms, giving her the opportunity to lift it over his head. Again he threw it to the floor and now lounged topless in his chair. He extend each leg in turn so she would remove his boots. Vanille knelt down and did just that, setting them aside once liberated from his feet. When she tried to stand he stopped her.

"Ah," he said with a curt breath. "You're not finished."

He was still wearing trousers. Surely he could do that himself, but since when was this actually about his clothes?

"Please?"

Vanille shivered, her skin crawling. Part of her wanted to run away screaming, another part wanted to kill him outright. Never mind that she didn't have the strength of will or body to do it. In any case, she had to do as he asked.

Tezzim's smirk slowly, slowly grew across his mouth as she reached for the closure of his pants, pulling the concealed buttons apart. It split like an open wounds, fangs exposed when he lifted his hips so she could pull them down his legs.

Even _he_ had to be proud of the masterful erection that now rested throbbing against his stomach.

Vanille looked away, forced herself to stare at the floor. She couldn't even bare to look at his feet. She heard him chuckle low in his throat and felt the urge to vomit on the spot.

He adjusted his position in the chair, sitting up a bit straighter. "Would you look at that. You crafty little thing."

Vanille chanted in her head this wasn't her doing, he was just messing with her. She didn't want this, she had nothing to do with this. He was just a sick pervert.

"Are you not impressed?" he asked with a tone of innocence. "Don't tell me that Hassan is bigger,"

She wasn't going to tell him anything. Her hands curled into fists atop her thighs, her chin pressed against her shoulder as hard as she could muster. There would be a bruise there by morning at this rate. She kept her mouth shut.

Tezzim purred, still so thoroughly entertained by her submissive resistance. It was actually rather cute. Sabine had behaved in a similar fashion the first night they spent together, though she didn't do so out of fear as the little servant girl was. Still he found it endearing. He hunched over in the chair, leaning on his knees as he curled a finger beneath her chin.

He lifted her head up, waiting until she finally opened her eyes. "Give us a kiss, eh?"

Vanille zipped her lips, her jaw like a vice as she fought to keep her mouth shut still. She couldn't stand the wet suck of his mouth, the tip of one fang pressing, and yanked herself away, resisting the urge to spit.

Tezzim liked it when women played hard to get, but she was just being stubborn. He didn't take rejection well. Not well at all.

She fell onto her side as the back of his hand connected in an instant with her face. She felt the bone of his largest knuckle collide with her cheekbone, and it was like getting hit with a brick. Then his hand gripped the front of the collar around her neck, pulling upward until she was completely off the floor. She was choking, holding on for dear life to his forearm, digging with her nails and nearly drawing blood in her panic.

Tezzim dropped her on her knees on his bed. She coughed once, just once before he snatched a handful of her hair in his hand and shoved her down. Her scalp pinched in his tight grip, pulled to demand her compliance. Vanille tried to push back, using all the strength she had in her arms to resist, but it wasn't even close to being sufficient. Like an ant trying to move an elephant. Above her, Tezzim continued to smile, but not as widely as before. Now it was just a smirk as his ego had been tested by her opposition. Although it didn't hinder his raging boner, I'll tell you that much.

"Come now, little one, let's be nice."

Fuck nice. And fuck you...okay, fuck might not be the right verb here...

"Just give me what I want and then we can both get on with our evening."

Give? She didn't have to give him anything. He would take it.

"But, mind me...if I feel teeth, I'll snap your pretty little neck."

There was that nagging need to throw up once again, now that she was fully aware of what he was asking for. No, not asking, _expecting_. As one would of any plaything.

Tezzim yanked back on her hair, forcing her chin high and forcing a pained shout to erupt. That's when he shoved it in and tears started to stream hot down her cheeks. Her hands curled into tight fists in the sheets, threatening to rip the fabric as the disgust surged through her. Her jaw was already hurting and she could only breathe when he pulled away, a split second before he forced his cock back down her throat.

"Oh yes," he growled over her, slightly hunched, "that's a girl."

His claws toyed with the knot of silk between her shoulders, meaning to undo it. He pulled the wrap away, one of his large hands gripping one newly exposed breast tightly while the other kept a firm hold on her hair. A strangled cry rattled through her, which only served to make him groan and quicken his pace. Now he was outright fucking her mouth.

His lips curled back in a wicked snarl, jaws parted and fangs gleaming in the dim light as he thrust his hips forward, holding the servant girl in place throughout his sudden orgasm. Tezzim staggered back, letting go and almost laughing as he watched her gag and spit it out onto her hand. He slumped back into his chair, smiling like a damn fool.

Vanille was horrified, unable to open her eyes or to stop the pitiful sob that shook its way out of her mouth. Her jaw was spasming at the hinge, sore. Her mouth was full of the taste of him, yet she still couldn't find it in her to vomit. But she wanted to. By the gods she wished she could, all over his bed just to spite him.

"That was better than I imagined it would be," he sounded pleasantly surprised, wiping absently at a droplet of sweat glistening on his temple. "I'd thank you...but we're not finished."

What stamina.

Before she could even react Vanille felt his hands cup her shoulders and shove her back, and now he was looming over her. Her wrists were trapped beneath just one of his hands, but that didn't stop her from squirming. If he was going to do this to her, she was going to make him work for it.

Tezzim used his broad chest to pry her legs apart, nestling between them as if he belonged there. He kissed her stomach, swirled his tongue around her navel, and pinched some of the soft flesh between his teeth. Vanille bucked her hips against him, a worthless effort that garnered her nothing but a small laugh from the vampire.

He could hear her thundering heartbeat, could almost feel the swift, panicked breaths heaving in and out of her lungs. The heat given off by her blood through her skin enveloped him and drove him wild. She was every predator's dream, no wonder his brother fancied her so. Hassan would never say it aloud, but he was just as much a hunter as himself, just as much a beast. ButTezzim was certainly the worse of the two, something he was very proud of.

Vanille resisted at first when she felt him start to flip her over, pulling on her hips so she would lay on her stomach. Then, in a split second decision as he released her wrists, she stretched her entire body to reach for the far edge of the bed, feet kicking to try and scramble away. Tezzim laughed behind her, amused once more at her feeble attempts, only needing to reach out and snatch one ankle to drag her back towards him. One arm snaked around her waist, claws pointing into her side until they ripped into her. Her skin was already livid with disgust, it hurt like hell.

She screamed, only to have it muffled by his other hand as her back bowed, her chest rising and her head dipping back to rest against his shoulder.

"Hush now, little one." he hissed into her ear, his grip like a constrictor. "You might disturb the baby...and that would certainly upset big brother."

Vanille sobbed into his hand, her consciousness now fully absorbed by the sharp throbbing of his claws in her tender flesh. She found it hard to breathe deep enough, the pain snatching the air right out of her. She could feel the warm, oozing fingers of blood trickling across the swell of one hip, undoubtedly dripping on the sheets. Crimson tears on white linen.

Thinking she had be disciplined enough for her unsuccessful escape, Tezzim continued, releasing his bloodied grip so he could snatch up her wrists once more. He bent both arms behind her, holding them there, and using his other hand to bend her forward, shoving her face into the mattress. He didn't need to fully undress her, and instead just shoved the stretch of silk covering the rest of her to bunch about her waist.

Vanille unconsciously noted the Tezzim _was_ bigger than Hassan, and made that realization through a haze of fresh pain that crackled through her abdomen like an electric shock. He was bigger, and he was anything but gentle. It was almost like he was going out of his way to cause her pain, raking his claws across her thighs and back, and his pace rough and uncaring.

Did any of you honestly expect anything else?

You totally didn't.

She cried into the mattress, tears soaking the blanket that was twisted up beneath her. Good gods she was in so much pain. Her heart ached just as much, if not more than her body did with each of his unforgiving thrusts, his hips slapping against her backside. Somewhere in the feverish hell, that smothering humiliation, her knuckle found her mouth and her teeth bit down. Harder and harder until the skin split open and teeth cut through to bone. Any tighter and the thin skin and flesh there would be completely severed. Yet, somehow, she didn't feel that pain. All she could feel was the pounding hips and heavy grunts of the vampire behind her.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No, not quite.

Although I'm sure you expected that too.

With a low growl he slowly eased back, disengaging as if satisfied, but I can tell you with genuine certainty that he wasn't. He didn't own her yet, so he couldn't be satisfied. He kissed her shoulders, licked at the droplet of sweat that had formed on her back. His arms circled her once more, just as tight as before, and his hips twisted in just the right way.

Vanille felt him drape over her back, could feel him pressing his face into her her hair, sniffing deeply. The affectionate behavior puzzled her, even as his body rumbled with a somewhat contented groan she couldn't make heads or tails of it. But she couldn't imagine, not for one iota of a second, what he was about to do. She might have guessed given enough time, but she would've been wrong.

So wrong.

How on earth can I describe what happened next in a way that won't make me -or you- want to go bathe in vinegar and lye for a week to wash off the filth? To be honest, I don't know if I can. But I'll try, big brass ones or not.

Vanille thought it was painful before. Now she would have to redefine the notion altogether. With no hesitation and certainly no concern, Tezzim forced his still throbbing cock into the only place he hadn't. She wailed into the mattress, screamed at the top of her lungs and unable to move otherwise due to his dwarfing form surrounding her. It felt like sitting on the edge of an ax, slowly being split in two. And it didn't get any easier, it didn't stop until he finished, which wouldn't be for another half hour. But you can imagine how long that must have felt for the poor girl.

_Oh god, make him stop. Please, someone stop this. Please._

But no one would. No one knew and no one cared.

_Someone save me. Fang, where are you? Why aren't you here?_

No one was coming.

With a heavy, guttural growl he finished, buried to the hilt as he emptied himself once again into her. He slowly disengaged, staggering back as he did before, looking unnaturally pleased with himself. He gripped the post of the bed frame, catching his breath as sweat rolled over his muscled body. He wiped his face and then started moving again. He wanted to bathe, and thus left her there without another word.

He owned her now, he'd had his turn and enjoyed it. So what else was there to say?

Vanille lay on the bed, flat on her stomach and sprawled out, eyes wide. She was perfectly still, even the sobbing eased, and she just wanted to focus on breathing. Her entire body was shaking, the trembling bone deep and aching. Her skin burned, now riddled with welts and bloody scratches. Hell, everything from her scalp to the soles of her feet were hurting. Never mind the details anymore. Being alive hurt.

Slowly, inch by inch, she pushed herself up. Wincing she eased her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. She straightened her clothes, finding the other part of it in the bed and only pressing it against her chest. Limping she left his room and started down the hall, resuming her original intent to retire for the night. But she didn't want to go to bed. It didn't feel safe. She needed a doctor.

Quietly, but still crying, hot tears seeping down her face, she eased into Donovan's office. She knew he would be sleeping, he and Beth both, and she didn't want to wake them. She wasn't bleeding too terribly anyhow, it could wait until morning. Vanille took one of the folded white sheets from beneath the exam table and wrapped it tightly around herself, sitting down in the chair at his desk. It was dark, the very dim light of an oil lamp by the door flickering, and she was still so terrified. But she felt somewhat secure here.

Vanille sat there, dosing, images flickering behind her heavy eyelids whenever they eased shut. She didn't feel so sick now. Actually, she didn't feel much of anything at all. A strange numbness had fallen over her. She even stopped caring.

For some reason, one she would never really know, she reached for the first drawer in the desk that her eyes had been settled on for the last few minutes. She pulled it open, slowly, finding a neatly arranged mess of objects. Something glimmered in the lamp light, a bright and shiny something. She reached for it, curious at first if nothing else. She held the long, silvery object for a moment in her hand, the one with the bitten finger in her lap.

After several minutes of simply staring at it she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees as she extended her other arm, palm up, and drew the blade across her wrist. It didn't hurt, not even the second time. Blood welled up from the fresh wounds, spilling over and drizzling to the floor.

Vanille slumped forward, chest against her knees, suddenly feeling so tired. A moment longer and she fell onto her side as the wooden chair struck the floor behind her her. The throbbing in her body began to ease, and everything started to steadily grow dark.

And still she didn't care.

She'd had enough, and thirty days was simply too long to wait.

Author's Note: I almost feel dirty, really I do. And guilty for doing such horrible things to innocent people. Oh well, at least I'm doing it on paper. The next chapter may take some time, I'm right in the middle of moving, so just be patient. So, is Vanille going to die? We'll have to wait and see. Either way you can be sure there will be hell to pay once Fang finds out. Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm going to go roll around in some steel wool until I feel like a decent human being again.


	24. Chapter XXIII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Bard woke bright and early, just before sunrise in order to have enough time to prepare himself for the first rehearsal. He was excited, to be sure, but also uncertain. Reading music wasn't entirely his strong suit, and gods knew where Maestro Sinclaire would put him once he arrived. A small part of him fretted that she would sit him in the percussion section or the brass, two areas he was not well versed in. However, as much as a bitch she appeared to be, the maestro also seemed to be a very sensible woman. She would know how to place him.

Once again he combed his hair and tied back what he could, shaved what was necessary, and gathered up his instruments before leaving his room. He stepped into the hallway, half listening to the small multitude of different snores from the other rooms. He tried to quietly make his way down the hall, knowing his casual pace would wake the other patrons with his hooves knocking the floor. He tip-toed...that is, what a satyr would consider tip-toeing.

Bard was nearing the end of the corridor when he stopped, his floppy ears flinching at something that wasn't a snore. True, mother taught him better than to eavesdrop, but sometimes you can't help but be curious. It was the last door on the left and he quietly stepped up to it, leaning a bit closer. A few seconds passed...there it was again. A tired, heaving, frustrated sigh.

He knew who was staying in this room, which is why he was meaning to knock and inquire as well as hesitate to do so in the first place. No one liked having their business pried into...but...

Bard tapped the door with his knuckle. "Miss Fang? Everythin' okay?"

There was no answer, everything was quiet on the other side.

"Might I come in?" he chanced again, and then reached for the doorknob after only a few moments. He poked his head in once the space was wide enough to allow it, one horn knocking the frame as he leaned forward.

There she was on the edge of the bed, the blanket half draped over her legs, still in her skivvies. Bard almost blushed at Fang's state of undress, but then made note of the look on her face. Her eyes were puffy as she looked up at him, her head resting in one hand and the other clutching to the stretch of bear fur. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her arm.

"Mornin'." she greeted casually. "You're up early."

He stepped inside, clicking the door shut with the gentle shove of his hoof. "I was on my to the conservatory." his expression changed from sheepish happiness to concern. "Have you slept at all, miss Fang?"

"Nah, not much." she rubbed the back of her neck. "Did I bother you?"

"Ach, no, not at all. Is somethin' wrong? You look a wee dreary." his consideration was genuine. "Can I help?"

Fang shook her head, laughing. "It's nothing. Just a bad dream is all."

He frowned a little with a quiet sigh and then started across the room to sit on the bed beside her. The springs whined under his weight. "Want teh talk about it?"

"What's to talk about? Just a dream." she said again, starting to fold the fur in order to set it aside.

"Well I would suppose if it's enough teh keep ya awake then it's got teh be more than nothin'." he lifted his eyebrows at her as if he knew something. "You can tell me, I can keep a secret."

Fang laughed a little. "Ah hell, it's no secret by now I'm sure. I'm just...I'm getting a bit run down."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I...I don't feel like we're making any progress...and that time is running out."

"Yeh didn't seem so worried before. All through the trip here yeh appeared all together. Just this passed evenin' you looked rather happy." he recalled how she had danced with the girls in the bar as he played, drinking and laughing with the patrons. It was like nothing was wrong.

"I know." she raked her scalp with one hand. "But...I have a tendency to do that...fake it. If I'm laughin' I'm not thinking about it. If I'm not thinking about it then I'm not worried."

"Is worryin' so bad?"

"If I worry about it, I'll fall to pieces after a while. What good am I then?"

"I see." he nodded, his hands clasped between his knees. "But you're always thinkin' about her, aren't ya?"

"Of course, I can't stop." Fang sounded troubled, truly unable to control it. "I mean..." her voice was threatening to break. "What else am I supposed to do? She's all I've got."

"Oh no, I understand."

They were quiet for a moment, the silence a bit awkward.

"So...about this dream..."

"Yeah, that." Fang stretched upward, hands over her head and her chest pressing up and out. Bard did his damnedest to not look like he was staring. "It's just...it was about my dad." And it lasted all night long, no matter how many times she woke and attempted to go back to sleep. It kept coming back. The same solemn, phantasmal vision of her father.

"Oh? Not all that pleasant for you?"

"I loved my father." she pitifully protested. "He was the greatest man I ever knew. Still...he said I was a failure. That I broke my promise."

"What promise?"

"I was supposed to take care of her...keep her safe." she took a sharp breath, one hand gripping hard in her hair. "Gods be damned, I _am_ a failure." and she began to cry. Restrained, shivering gasps of air the she fought to keep in as tears burned her eyes that were screwed shut, her head bowed until her chin touched her chest.

"Come on now, dinnae be sayin' that." he encouraged gently. He chanced a friendly arm around her shoulders, pulling her just an inch or so closer to him. "I doubt a man worth anythin' would say somethin' like that to his own girl...'specially if that girl was you."

"Like I said," she sniffed. "It was just a dream."

"But it still hurt ya, din' it?" he knew he was right, though he still asked. "I ken you're a wee softer than ya let on."

She laughed softly. "You caught me."

"Still...let me ask ya somethin'." he waited a moment, taking her silence as consent. "You haven't given up, have ya?"

Fang straightened. "Not by a long shot, even if it's the last thing I ever do."

"Then I dinnae believe yeh failed, and I dinnae believe your father would either. I bet nobody does."

Fang wiped her eyes again. "Maybe your right." and she smiled at him. "Thanks. I didn't mean to hold you up."

"It's no problem" he scratched his head. "She's probably expecting me teh flake anyhow. I suppose I'm only agreein' with it is so I can keep the magistrate happy. Hopefully that'll get us a little closer."

"I'm grateful for that. Really I am." she confessed, looking him in the eye. "Hell, it's more than I'm doing right now. Sittin' here crying like a damn baby."

"Dinnae start beatin' yourself up again," he feigned severity with a serious expression. "Dinnae make me hold ya some more."

"Now _there's_ a punishment if I ever heard one. You got me scared now, nanny."

"Bitcheses."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she smirked at him.

"Aye, I do. Best not keep the lady maestro waiting." he shook his head with a slight shrug. "Will yeh be okay now? At least until I get back this evenin'?"

"I think I'll manage." Fang watched him stand and start for the door, surprised when he paused without saying anything or turning back. She took the opportunity to say a little more. "Thanks for looking out for me, Bard."

"The pleasure's all mine, lass. Anytime." he replied, his head half turned so to hide his smile. "Now perhaps you ought to dress yourself? Cannae have everyone seein' ya this way, can we?"

"I suppose." she laughed. "And don't spread this around...Light will start calling me a goat-fucker."

"Really?" now he turned, his eyes wide and brow raised high. "Would...i-is that bad?"

Fang would be laughing about his reaction, quietly of course, off and on for the rest of the day. Never letting on to that terrible, stomach twisting feeling that something awful had happened during the night. Something she didn't see, but felt all the same.

_(II)_

Hassan didn't like at all the heavy, solemn look on Donovan's face as he stood in the doctor's office. It wasn't often that Hassan saw him in such a state, hadn't in a very long time, so he was naturally troubled by it. Although the Bloodchief understood what was bothering him once the human explained what he had found.

"She'll live, master," he slowly nodded his head, his arms crossed as he leaned against the exam table. "It was very close, though."

Hassan's brow creased deeply in the middle, his mouth twisting into a scowl. "How could this have happened? I don't want to think the poor girl did it to herself."

"Not entirely, my lord." Donovan's sigh was a sad one.

"So what did you find?" he needed the details, he had to know what was going on.

"Well...," the human rubbed the back of his head, hesitation darkening his face. "Nasty things. She was attacked, no doubt...sodomized... With all due respect...I don't want to point any fingers, master, but,"

"No, no," Hassan raised a dismissive hand. "You don't have to. I should have seen this coming from the start. Kasa even warned me..." then he hung his head, somewhat disappointed in himself. The shrug that rolled out of him was loud, full of what sounded like shame. "How is she doing now?"

"She's sleeping. I would imagine she will be for a while. It may be some time before she can return to work."

"No, do what you have to, I don't care. Make sure she gets well."

"Yes, master. I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will. I have all my faith in you." and with a restrained smile of confidence he turned, almost not wishing to, and left the room. Out into the hallway he went, going back to be with his wife, but not before a quick word with his brother who he could sense prowling somewhere nearby. They were twins after all, they always knew where each other was.

Seconds later, just as the sensation passed, the doppelganger appeared, practically out of nowhere. In the shade of a column he stood, the washed out shadows of sunrise just hiding his face but unable to conceal his eyes.

"Brother, my ears were burning. Could it be you were thinking of me?"

"Indeed." the Bloodchief stopped and turned, facing his twin with his hands behind his back. This posture was meant to convey severity, which Tezzim failed to miss. "Might I have a word with you?"

"Of course. What kind of brother would I be if I could not share that much?" he stepped out of the shadows. It was like they were standing before a mirror, no light to show the sheen in their hair to tell them apart. "What do you need?"

"I can smell her all over you." was the first thing out of his mouth.

Tezzim closed his eyes, smiling. "Oh yes, that. What can I say? She's a sneaky one, that girl."

"Don't try to lie to me, you know you can't." the slits in Hassan's eyes narrowed. "Donovan found her last night...she slit her wrists."

Tezzim's brow lifted. "What a waste." To think all of that sweet, sweet blood went to nothing more than staining a stone floor.

"Fortunately she lives."

"Oh, wonderful." he was pleasantly surprised. "Can always count on Donovan, can't you?"

"Indeed. Still," Hassan's brow creased. "Why did you have to be so rough with her? And without my permission to top it off."

"Please," Tezzim rolled his eyes. "She's just a human, there are millions more out there wandering the streets just like her."

"But those millions more did not save my wife," Hassan's voice was now rough edged and growling. "It is because of her that the house of Kalitas has an heir. She deserved much better than treatment such as that. Don't look at me that way, I know how you are."

"Very well, you caught me. What would you have me do about it? Apologize?"

As if she would believe it.

"I have yet to decide what is to be ultimately done of the matter, but for the time being you will not go near her, is that understood?"

"Honestly, brother,"

"_Am I clear_?" he asked again, each word a punctuated stab.

"Very well." Tezzim shrugged after a moment. By the sound you would think he was only agreeing to it to soothe his brother. As if he really could do as he wanted and Hassan couldn't stop him. "I suppose I'll go sit in the corner and think about what I did for a while?"

"Perhaps that would do you some good," and unlike his brother, Hassan sounded dead serious. "Besides...don't you have a woman of your own? Why not molest her instead? She would appreciate it, I'm sure."

"Oh yes, you're right," his eyes lit up. "I suppose that will do. Is there anything else you needed, brother dear?"

"For now. Do behave, won't you?" Hassan's expression softened just a little. In the end, he was still his only sibling and he loved him.

"I make no promise other than to try." Tezzim smirked and then disappeared again.

Slumber felt deep, final, like she wasn't going to wake up. That was her quiet hope, the silent prayer that chanted in her heart.

_Let this be the end. Let me die._

The last thing Vanille remembered was slumping over her knees, the dim chime of metal striking the floor. That was it. That's when the almost comforting darkness swaddled around her and sang her to sleep with silence. It was supposed to be the end of it all, the release that she could actually stand to wait for.

She didn't remember the noises made from her body slumping to the floor. She had fell to the side, bumping the exam table in such a way that the legs skidded loudly on stone making a loud screech as only wooden objects could. She didn't know it was loud enough to wake Donovan out of a dead sleep and bring him out of bed to investigate the sound.

Donovan had called for Beth the moment he realized what was happening. Both of them had been quick to react, quick enough to stop the bleeding and to suture the wounds that she survived. Although a few more seconds would have left them powerless. And it was only after the jitters of that scare had eased that they found the other injuries. The gouges in her side, and the claws marks that scraped across her thighs and back.

It all came together then.

What, you thought this was the first time they had seen something like this? Silly you.

By the time Donovan had finished it was nearly sunrise, time for Beth to be in the kitchen and Donovan to be on his way to check on the missus. They decided it better to let Vanille rest in their bed, and both were sure to look in on her regularly, make sure she hadn't passed suddenly or worse. Worse? Trying again once she woke would be worse. For sure.

But neither was the case. She had a pulse every time and was still very much asleep. It wouldn't be until late that afternoon that she stirred at all, turning her head and whimpering before going still once more. If he wasn't needed elsewhere, Donovan was right beside her, watching closely as he lounged in his desk chair that he had moved beside the bed.

It wouldn't be until after sundown that she woke. Consciousness sank in like a syringe, slow, painful. Her skin tingled with a half numb, half sore sensation. Without opening her eyes she pressed her palms to her face and took a slow, deep breath through her nose. Her fingertips pushed against her eyes, her expression twisting into a tight grimace while still hidden beneath her hands. Sweet gods, it didn't work.

She still lived.

"You awake, deary? Can you hear me?"

Vanille only nodded, face still covered.

"How do you feel?"

She didn't answer.

"You had all of us pretty scared." he confessed. "The master too."

She laughed, a flat huff of breath. Somehow she severely doubted that.

The sound broke his heart. Poor thing. "Can you sit up for me?"

Without an answer either way, she put her hands beneath her and pushed, finding her arms unsteady at first. Donovan had one hand ready just behind her, just in case she couldn't do it. Dizziness swamped her for a brief moment as her blood pressure suddenly spiked and then settled.

"You okay?" he watched her nod. "Good. Now just let me have a feel here," he put his fingers to her throat, feeling her pulse and marking it on his pocket watch. "Still a little on the piddly side...something to eat should help."

"I don't want it." came her argument, pitiful and yet stubborn.

Donovan felt himself sink, his shoulders dropping and all the air in his lungs leaking out. "Come now, don't say that. You need to or you won't get better."

"I don't want to get better. You should have just left me alone." and all the while she spoke her head was down. She looked at her wrists, contemplating the bloodied bandages wrapped around them. Part of her was ashamed, another disappointed.

"You can't expect me to do that...I'm a doctor. Besides," he took a shaking breath as he raked his scalp, "I finally had a chance. I was able to save someone and I did. It's my nature, I can't help it."

She looked at him, turning her head and letting her tired green eyes settle on him. The oil lamp on the beside table didn't offer much light, but it was enough to reveal her bitter curiosity at his statement.

"You weren't the first one to try." he continued, sounding as if she should have guessed that by now. "But you were the first I was able to save. All the others...I was just too late."

So many had gone in their sleep, sly enough to hide something beneath their pillow or mattress, committing suicide in the comfort of their bed, whilst others simply leaped from the roof or one of the balconies. All of them tired, all of them fed up with the burden of taking a breath or carrying a heartbeat. It had been too much.

Vanille felt her heart pinch and it started the burn of tears in her eyes. She didn't mean to hurt anyone. "I'm sorry."

"No, deary, don't apologize. I suppose I'm the one...it was selfish of me not to think about you. Still, like I said, it's in my nature. Not that I don't understand how you're feeling. You're feeling lost, hopeless, trapped..."

He had it down to an art, this man. He just knew.

"You're in pain and you feel as though no one can save you. Am I right?"

She nodded, her motions stiff as she fought against the urge to cry.

"I wish," he started with a shrug, pausing in the middle, "I wish you felt you could come to me...talk it out. I don't want to see these things happen...'specially not to a sweet girl like you. It'd break this old man's heart. I mean...cryin' your eyes out is a hell of a lot easier than diggin' a grave."

Perhaps it was the wording, or maybe his tone of voice, but something about that struck Vanille in a strange way. She couldn't ignore it, and it was as if the piece of a puzzle just fell into place.

She hadn't thought about it last night, didn't think much further ahead than a few seconds, but what if she had indeed succeeded? What if she had died? What if it was true that Fang was in the city looking for her? She would never be found. Ever.

Gods on high.

The tears started falling. "I'm sorry." she rasped, her throat tight. "I'm so sorry."

Donovan shrugged. With a slow, deliberate motion, he eased in the bed just behind her and carefully pulled her into a gentle embrace. "No one blames you, deary, really. Everyone understands."

But that didn't change a damn thing, did it? No, it never does. And the fact simply made her cry harder.

"It's all right," he whispered. "Go ahead and cry. It'll help."

No. It wouldn't.

_(III)_

Tonight was the first night of the long awaited Saints Festival. It was an annual, week long celebration where every night was dedicated to two of the thirteen saints. The last night of the festival was for the sole observance of Saint Kalitas, the founder of the city and, typically, the high point of the holiday. Everyone would be out and about tonight at parties and social events on the plaza that were courtesies of the descendants of the night's chosen saints.

Yes, most everyone would be out tonight enjoying themselves, and certainly not at home watching their belongings on the chance that a certain somebody might come a-knocking.

The Blue Door was busier than usual already, and it was just after sunset. Apparently many of Arash's denizens preferred to be drunk before going to the party. Very, very drunk. Raul and Francisco were making money hand over fist for the most part, but that was simply because they would start serving chilled horse piss to the patrons that were too shitfaced to tell it wasn't beer. Seeing as that cost them nothing, they could only make money.

Don't worry, it's sanitary...I think.

But who cares, really?

Bard played from the stage, inciting some of the waitresses to dance between the tables, much to the pleasure of the still lucid patrons. They would clap and sing along, regardless of whether or not they knew the words if there were words to know. The lot of them simply enjoyed their sottish revelry however they saw fit. And Shilo stood nearby, though out of sight, to make sure they did so without starting any trouble.

Hope was lending a hand behind the bar, cleaning and collecting glasses whilst Francisco and Raul filled them time and again. Lighting was acting as Shilo's silent partner, currently escorting an unfriendly fat man up the stairs as he was too drunk to behave properly any longer.

Teh'Han stirred in the chair beside the fireplace in his room, roused by the growing commotion from downstairs. He couldn't go back sleep, that much he was fairly certain of. He stood up, stretching slowly, and stepped carefully through the darkness for the door. With his eyes still shut he stepped out into the, unsure as to his reason for bothering to leave his room. Perhaps he was simply bored? He was heading for the door at the end of the corridor, wanting to go down into the bar. Maybe a drink would be good for him?

"Evening."

Han opened his eyes, squinting at the dim lamplight, seeing Fang leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. "Something wrong?" nothing about her seemed to suggest anything amiss, but he couldn't help but wonder.

"Nothin' really. Just wondering if you'd fancy a walk with me." her mouth cradled a slight smirk, her eyebrows hiked up as her wild blue eyes settled on him. There was something sly in that look, something nigh on dubious.

His eyes still narrowed he tilted his head. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary; I just wanted to take a look into something."

"Then why not ask one of your other companions?"

"Because they don't know the city, you do. Besides, they're all busy by the sounds of it."

He sighed a little, sounding a bit flustered. "You don't need me."

"Sure I do," she smiled. "You know little ol' me wouldn't stand a chance with all them nasty blood-suckers out there."

"Give me a break." he started walking on, only to stop as her hand curled over his shoulder.

"In all seriousness," she began again, her tone having abruptly changed. "I'd like for you to come along. I know I'd feel safer."

He couldn't say no, deep down he knew it. She had given a rather clear request for his aid, it would be that much more shame on his back if he denied it. There were times he damned his upbringing, certain it had always brought him more trouble than not.

"Very well." he conceded, knowing he was going to regret it somehow or another. "Where are we going?"

"Kalitas district...did I say that right?"

"I suppose." and they began walking together. "What's there?"

"Raul said he knew of someone who might have bought Vanille that lived there."

"Did he at least give you their name?"

"Miriam."

He felt his insides tighten as they stepped out onto the ground floor and into the noise rising up from the bar below. His face showed the discomfort in the form of deep lines in his forehead and a hard grimace on his mouth.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I know where you mean to go." he replied quickly, his voice rough. "Let's move along while the night is still new."

And with no hesitation she followed. She really liked that about Han. No bullshit.

The city was dark for the most part, but corner lamps and fire basin's were lit out of necessity. A bright halo of light surrounded the plaza and fragments of noise echoed through the empty streets. Surely whatever was going on during the festivities tonight were momentous to make such a commotion.

Fang was sure to keep close to Han, confident in his knowing his way about. She was surprised to find him keeping to the main thoroughfares, having expected him to stay in the shadows as the two of them would sneak about to reach their destination. Surely there was a reason for this, she was positive, although she couldn't discern it. In truth Han was doing his best to make them look as normal as possible, wanting to look as if they belonged there at this hour knowing that they were being watched. Little flickers of glowing, slitted eyes peered through the shadows at them. He couldn't see, but knew they were there.

They were forced to cross the plaza to reach the Kalitas district, but lingered on the fringes of the crowd to reach it.

"Hell of a party," Fang said in passing.

Han only grumbled quietly to himself, his eyes fixed forward and his strides ever steady.

The light dwindled into darkness behind them as they drew further and further from the plaza. They weren't very far now. Soon they would be able to see Miriam's villa. Han could feel the set grimace on his face deepening, and he was beginning to feel terribly sorry for this girl they were looking for. If Miriam was involved, it was a near guarantee that they would find nothing pleasant. Part of him thought to try and convince Fang to turn back, to give up the idea and that it was futile to push this. There was nothing good to be had whenever this bitch was considered.

"What was that?" Fang suddenly stopped, half turning on her heels to see what was behind her. Maybe it was just an odd feeling...or had she really heard something skittering about in the darkness back there?

"Hm? Did you see anything?" he asked softly.

"No...it was like...it was just a whisper."

"That's what I was worried about." Han felt his brow sink over his eyes. "Pretend you don't know they're there."

"They who?"

"Nighthawks."

"What are those?" she didn't like the sound of them.

"If I have a chance I'll explain later, but suffice for now that they're certainly not something we want to encounter tonight. Which reminds me,"

She waited anxiously for what he had to say.

"When we get inside, try not to shed any blood. They'll be on us in an instant if you do." and the two continued on without another word about them. Although that did enlighten Fang to the reason why he had neglected to arm himself for this little outing. Something that had puzzled her before.

It wasn't long after that they turned a corner, finding the start of the path leading to Miriam's villa on the other side. The yard, the windows were all dark, that much they could tell through the presence of night.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home." Fang said quietly as she looked the place over.

"It's possible." but Han knew that wouldn't be the case. That would be easy, so it naturally wasn't the circumstance. "Still, lets act as if someone is."

Fang only nodded, jumping the fence once they reached it with Han right behind her. The pair crept quietly across the lawn, mindful of the reflection pool and the heaviness of their steps while crossing stretches of marble. They stalked about the columns once they ascended the short flight of stairs, not wanting to go directly for the front door just yet. First they needed to be certain if anyone was home or not.

Fang peered about the columns, squinting through the dark to try and see through the stained glass windows. "I think some lamps are lit inside." she whispered.

But that wasn't out of the ordinary, though he still nodded at her observation. It was never pitch black in this house, even when it was vacant. It could just be a single candle in a closet, but there was always light somewhere. Perhaps the lady of the house was afraid of the dark.

Han stepped closer, flattening himself against the wall beside one of the windows. He leaned over, wanting a closer look through the fragmented and colored glass, looking for something in particular on the other side. He was waiting for something to move, to make a sound he could hear, anything that would satisfy his curiosity.

He felt himself flinch as a large, dark shape passed between the windows and the flames of a lamp. It was a very large shadow, one he couldn't mistake for anything or anyone else.

"I saw it too," Fang quietly said as she eased up behind him. "What is it?"

"Trouble. We're going to have to be very careful."

"Fine. So how do we get in?"

"As quietly as possible."

Tor completed his rounds of the house as usual, but something felt amiss. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, something just...

He checked the air. No, it didn't smell different. It didn't feel different. Everything was quiet...what was going on? He could feel it in his skin...like someone was right behind him, never mind that he knew damn good and well that simply wasn't possible. No one sneaks up on Tor. Nobody.

It was that hubris that kept him from turning to look behind him as his back was to the door. It was his pride that made him miss the slightest whimper of a metal hinge as the door eased open without his permission, though he would've sworn he locked it tighter than the toy chest beneath his bed. He had the key, so naturally he would just assume he'd locked it.

Though he hadn't. By some off chance, he made that tiny mistake.

Tiny indeed.

Tor felt the draft on his ankles, forcing him to twist around to see the door ajar. His brow lifted and the slits of his eyes flexed, seemingly unable to believe what he was seeing. Maybe it was just a mouse...the opening was maybe only that large. Yes, perhaps a small rodent squeezed its way in. He stepped up to the door and pushed it shut, shoving the key into the door as he swore he did before and turned it with a jerk. Tor turned back again, meaning to ascend the stairs to Miriam's office.

He never made it.

From out of nowhere, and in a way that Tor could never fathom how, something collided with his jaw. The big bondsman staggered a little, twisting with his fists clenched in the direction he had felt the blow from. There was nothing there. Then there was a hard impact to his lower back, making his body bow forward, his stomach thrusting out. He turned once again, bringing both his fists down from above his head, this time connecting with a hard yet giving object. The vampire looked down, the slits of his darkened eyes thinning. It was a human.

A human dare enter his mistress's home? He would have to die.

Tor reached down and snatched Han up by the back of the neck, lifting him even as the man struggled against his vice-like grip. With a quick jerk of his waist, Tor threw him across the room to land heavily on his back.

"I know your stink, mortal," the bondsman growled.

Han stood up as quickly as he could manage, going for the bondsman once again. He lunged forward, giving an honest attempt at landing his knee against the vampire's chest. Tor caught the attack and shoved back, expecting the human to be set off balance as he took a massive step forward and followed through with a quick punch to the face.

Han covered his face with his hand as he hit the floor, tasting copper as blood spilled into his mouth. He kept it shut, swallowing it so as not to let the scent into the air. Nighthawks would be all over the place with the odor of even that much blood wafting about. He sat up once the sensation of the ground moving beneath him passed and his vision cleared. He spotted Tor right away, though was surprised to find him not assaulting him once more. He looked far too preoccupied to be bothering with him.

Fang had latched on to the vampire, her legs wrapped about his tree trunk waist while her arms wove beneath his and her hands locked behind his head, forcing it down. Tor appeared furious, his arms flailing to try and grab hold so he could pull her off his back. Although she didn't seem at all of the mind to let him loose.

It was like riding a behemoth with the way the bondsman thrashed and jerked himself about, but Fang held on as if her life depended on it. At first she hadn't thought it a wise idea to provoke the brute, but there was a tiny voice in her head that was screaming for her to go for it. As you may have guessed that was her slightly stupid side, the side that always said kill first and ask questions later. That side tends to win out over the other, which I'm sure many of you have noticed. So there was no question or hesitation. The big fella was going down.

When Tor couldn't reach, now livid in agitated fury, he simply jumped straight up and leaned back, falling flat atop his annoying assailant. He heard all of the air escape her lungs in a desperate gasp, her body crushed into the marble floor and forcing her to release her grip. He slapped his palms to the floor with enough force to put him back onto his feet, completely upright, like he was on a spring-loaded hinge.

Han was there to meet him, his fist hooking the vampire across the mouth once again before it whipped back for a second helping. Tor reeled, holding his face as the hinges of his jaw came violently undone. He came back at Teh'Han with a renewed fury, arms out and hissing as his mouth dangled open. Han backed away out of reflex, step by step to keep his distance. He knew the columns were coming up right behind him, just a little further and he would be trapped between one and Tor.

At the last second he twisted his hips and threw one of his legs forward, landing a heavy, gut-wrenching blow to the bondsman's crotch. For a moment it seemed like the vampire couldn't breathe, his fangs exposed but his chest not working as his body seized. But Han stumbled also, feeling as if his shin had met bone. And I mean that literally, as in pelvis. Han felt something crack, but he wasn't sure what it was. The only certainty was the throbbing in his leg and the numbness in his toes.

But, all things considered, it was well worth it.

Fang fought to get back to her feet. Catching her breath was a chore, her lungs seeming unable to expand far enough to let her breathe. That cold blooded lump weighed a damn ton and tried his damnedest to squash her flat. Somehow she rolled onto her hands and knees, coughing as she felt her ribs popping, and then slowly straightened. She turned at the resounding _thud_ that bounced around the antechamber walls, a sharp twist that allowed her to catch the final second of Han's foot between Tor's legs. Watching the vampire stumble that way renewed her strength, and drive her to go after him once more.

Again she latched onto him from behind, though this time she went straight for his neck, weaving her arms in such a way that one forearm wedged itself into the small space where his jaw and throat met, whilst the other held on tight to the back of his head. He started choking, unable to breath through a closed windpipe. And she only squeezed that much tighter the harder he tried to get away. In a futile attempt to free himself Tor threw back his head. Bone struck bone as he struck her forehead hard, her head snapping back. Tears burned her eyes and she could feel the warm sting of blood working its way out of her nose. That didn't stop her. She held on still, her grasp tightening.

Tor rasped and choked, foam forming in the corners of his mouth as his jaws gnashed desperately. If Fang knew what he had done, was aware of what Miriam had allowed him, she would've squeezed the bastard until his brain popped out of his skull.

Han found it in him to lend a hand, as little as it seemed necessary by this point. Tor was nearly to his knees, his face reddened and his steps uneven. He advanced, snatching a handful of the short hair on the top of Tor's head and pulled down, keeping a tight grip on him as he drove his knee again and again into his chest. Hard, concussive blows that would surely burst his heart given enough time. But there wouldn't be enough time. The bondsman lingered into quiet expiration, the blood flow to his brain no longer sufficient to keep him alive.

His massive body slumped to the floor, still, growing steadily colder, his rump in the air and his face in the floor.

The two of them stood back, looking down at the fallen giant. Fang put the back of her hand to her nose, feeling droplets of blood smearing, and forced it back into her head where it belong with an abrupt snort. Already a bruise was blossoming right between her eyes.

"That was fun." she feigned a quiet laugh. "What's next?"

"If he was here," Han cleared his throat. "The lady of the house is too."

She nodded. "Did he say something about knowing you?"

Han's face tightened. "Nothing to worry about right now. So let's move this brute, I have an idea."

Miriam lounged in the comfy chair, Lucifer in her lap and Scylla on her shoulders. She had been meaning to go to bed for a while now, but was waiting on Tor. She did so enjoy it when he would pick her up and carry her off to her room, even tuck her in with a feigned sense of fatherly care. But it had been an awful long time since she called for him, forced to wait as he made his regular rounds of the house. Where was he?

She stood, her lizards coiling onto the desk as she pushed the chair back and straightened. With casual steps she went to the door, pulling it open and looking down into the darkened stairwell. Why weren't the lamps lit down there? With hesitation she descended, feeling heart rate rise as the darkness wrapped around her. She called for Tor and received no answer. Once, twice she called for him as she entered the ante chamber, her hands now clenched into fists and held against her chest.

Miriam slowly scanned the room over, finding no trace of her bondsman though she was positive he would be here.

"Tor, where are you?" her timid cry echoed between the columns. "Answer me right this minute!"

It was still quiet, still darker than hell. Against her better instincts she stepped into the middle of the room, as if that would help her case at all. Maybe Tor was playing a game with her...any second now he would emerge from the shadows and grab her up in his massive arms with a playful growl.

Yeah right.

"This isn't funny," she warned to no one. "You're upsetting me."

She was breathing faster, her fists shaking against her breasts. She began to back away, back towards the staircase, turning to see that there was no light at the top of them. It was pitch black, and though she could see just fine in the dark it was no less terrifying. There was the faint scent of a stranger, and that wasn't helping her composure.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" a demand not unheard, but certainly unheeded.

She continued backing up, one trembling, unsure step at a time. Perhaps she thought whatever was lurking in the dark wouldn't catch her if she didn't turn around, if she didn't dare to look over her own shoulder. Tension was building, her heart rate spiking, her small breaths now like a mouse being slowly strangled in a serpent's grasp. Miriam clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from knocking together. Finally she couldn't take it anymore and she twisted around, bounding up the stairs and back into her office.

All of the lamps had been snuffed out, the only light that of the dim glow from the plaza and the waxing moon. The heavy curtain covering the broken window rippled in a dying breeze, casting an unsteady shadow across the floor that resembled some begrudging specter. The sight of it would have had her screaming if she hadn't covered her mouth against it. With that fright passed she hurried to her desk, she kept matches in the drawer and could reignite the lamps. Yes, light. She needed the light. Everything would be fine again once she had light.

Shaking hands worked feverishly through the drawers and small cabinets of her desk, looking high and low for the matches. In her rush she lost her grip on them once she had found them, the wooden box falling open and its contents spilling across the floor. With a curse she bent down, snatching up a handful though she only needed one.

"Please light," she whispered, "please, please, please, please,"

Finally it took, a small spark that hissed into a steady flame, bathing room in a warm copper light. And it allowed Miriam a glimpse of something that shouldn't have been there. This time she screamed at the sight of the unexpected figure, one she didn't recognize and scared her into dropping her precious match. The flame died when it toughed the floor. she stumbled back, once again in darkness, and fell against a solid something. It steadied her fear when she reached back to touch a bare, muscled chest.

"Tor, thank the saints," she gasped.

Before she could utter another word a strong arm bent around her neck and yanked upward. Her feet were off the floor, forcing her to hang there just barely able to breathe. The look on her face priceless, if you could just see the horrified confusion...

Miriam was forced onto her back with a hard slam, onto the top of her desk. Her lizards had long since run for cover, leaving their mistress to fend for herself. A massive shadow now hovered over her and its weight she could feel pressing on her wrists. Though now she was able to breathe freely, her body was nigh on refusing to do so. Her muscles didn't obey her instinct to fight back. She simply laid there, vulnerable prey.

Teh'Han looked down at Miriam, his face set in a tight grimace as he straddled the vampire and held her in place. Just the sight of her was filling him with such a fury. He had never sought vengeance on anyone for what happened to him, but as he looked at her...his misery had a face, and, by the gods, he was so infuriated. He wanted retribution, he wanted someone to pay. And she would be the perfect sacrifice. It wasn't because she had been his first owner, it wasn't even because she burned him with her cigarette time and again when he couldn't get it up, it was because she was here and she was a vampire.

Miriam was paralyzed with terror. She couldn't move, her tongue was heavy in her mouth, and all she could do was keep her eyes fixed on the now two shadows looming above her.

"Where's my sister?"

Miriam stilled for a brief second, her eyes wide and her mouth open to try and form words. "Wha-wha...what do you mean? I don't know you,"

"But I know you." Fang's eyes narrowed. "I've heard plenty."

"Who are you people?"

Miriam bared her fangs, eyes screwing shut with a stunted hiss when Han's large hand squeezed her throat.

"Just answer the question." He demanded slowly, sincerely. Then he eased his grip just enough for her to speak.

"I s-swear...I don't know who you're...t-talking about." she pleaded.

"That's not what Raul said. Why don't you think back little ways," Fang dipped her head, leaning a bit closer. "Surely you remember."

Miriam sobbed, distraught over her situation.

"Come on, out with it." Fang urged with feigned gentility. "Think about it, young, bright red hair, green eyes, kind of meek."

Miriam's eyes flew open. "Yes, yes, I remember! Yes, I bought her."

"That's what I thought."

"But," she hesitated. "But I don't own her anymore."

"That so? Fine. Who does?"

"M-my sire, Hassan of the Kalitas house." she was all too eager to answer. "I've told you everything I know, please don't kill me!"

"Oh no, I wouldn't dream it." Fang straightened, her hands on her hips. "But, unfortunately, that's not my decision." Then she turned away. She could feel Teh'Han's anger, and she didn't want to see what he would do with it.

In the end, Miriam went the same way as her bondsman, slowly, unable to breathe, and terrified until the very last second as she peered into the eyes of a mortal man she had once subjugated.

When they were certain of the noble's passing, together they carried the body to lay beside the other, in Miriam's bed. The two were positioned in such a way that one would think they had passed in their sleep.

It was all part of the plan.

"Go on, I'll catch up in a moment." Han said to Fang from over his shoulder. It was a request she didn't protest. She left the villa as silently as she came, not worried that he would be on his way in time.

Han stood there for a long moment, just scowling and staring at the floor, turning over a match in his hand. One of Miriam's cigarettes was pinched between his ring and pinkie finger, the stem she always used he clenched between his teeth. He put the two together and struck the match, lighting the cigarette and throwing the still lit stick onto the bed. The silk and cloth were sure to burn quickly.

He took one deep drag of it, taking the stem out of his mouth and slowly exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. In the dim glow of the growing flames, the smoke erupting from him gave him the appearance of a demon. Some unspeakable thing somehow dressed in a man's skin.

Han almost ceremoniously placed the stem in Miriam's hand, as she would hold it, but was sure to touch the reddened end to the sheets, starting a second fire. For but a moment longer he stood by to watch. He wanted to watch her burn, if for just a second. And if you listened closely, you could hear him whispering, more like growling low in his chest.

"That's one more for your trip to hell...you twisted whore."

Then, somehow, as the entirety of the bed and its occupants were consumed by flames, he felt better. The rage was gone, never to return.

_(-)_

"I didn't see them leave, but they aren't in their rooms. Bard checked." Shilo shook his head, his mane tossing slightly.

"Where in the hell did those two go?" Lightning had crossed her arms, leaning against the end of the bar and eyeballing the flight of stairs.

"Is there something wrong?"

Lightning didn't answer, not wishing to voice her concern that Fang and Han had gone and done something stupid. What if they were exposed?

"I'm sure they're fine." Raul turned on an empty bar stool, his jaw resting on his open palm. The hour was late and many of the patrons had migrated out into the streets for the festival. "They're both grown folks, aren't they?"

"In years only."

No sooner had the last word been said did the two in question step into the Blue Door. Down the stairs they came, talking in Pulsian, Fang seeming to in the middle of a joke and Han pretending to get it. Lightning scowled at the sight of them, deeper still when she noticed the bruises.

"Where have you been?"

The two of them paused, for a brief moment looking like a couple of kids out after curfew and caught red handed.

"Oh, nowhere," Fang wiped the back of her hand beneath her nose, smearing a stray smudge of blood. "Big brother and me were just out...walkin' about." and then she did her best to stifle a guilty laugh.

_Big brother?_

Lightning cocked up an eyebrow. "So what's that?" and she jabbed a suspicious finger onto the purple mark between her eyes.

"Ow, damn," she winced, but it didn't take away her sense of humor. "We, uh..." she looked at Han who looked back at her. "We fell down the stairs."

"Stairs?" she certainly didn't expect that.

"Yeah," Fang snickered.

Lightning looked at Han, thinking he would be able to give her a straight answer. "Well?"

For a second he was quiet, looking at Light with a straight face, then, "It was a long fall."

And both of them were laughing as Lightning looked on in irritated confusion.

That's right, you heard me.

Teh'Han was laughing.

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long and that it's such a load of crap. Still...ah well, it's what happened. Don't count on the next chapter to be on time either, but I'll be able to make it up to you with some luck and a nasty practical joke at Light's expense. See you then.


	25. Chapter XXIV

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"Play me something chipper, nanny," Fang demanded casually as she leaned against the cusp of the stage, a drink in her hand. "Something bouncy."

Bard suddenly stopped, mid chord when he saw her there, planning to continue until he saw the violet shiner on her face.

"By Ares' beard," he gasped, "what happened teh ya? Are ya all right?"

"Oh aye," she smirked before taking a sip. "Nothing I can't get over. Now how about that song?"

For the longest moment he sat there, mouth slightly ajar, unable to wrap his head around how little her state seemed to bother her. He was rather beside himself, feeling the need do something. But it was a little conflicted considering she didn't appear to be in pain. At a loss, he simply decided to honor her request and play.

Hope went to bed, exhausted from the late night rush. For as long as he lived, he quietly promised, he would never work in a bar for the rest of his life if he could help it. Francisco went to bed as well, giving Raul a covert smooch on the cheek before disappearing. And Raul was only up and about for perhaps an hour more, not intending to go to bed until everyone else had.

Han had decided to have a seat at one of the tables meant for only two and was talking with Shilo who was standing beside him. Lightning was watching them from some distance away, her expression tight. She couldn't hear them, part of her unnaturally curious to know what it was. But it wasn't just that. She knew he and Fang weren't telling her the truth. It was irritating. It was enough to drive someone to drink.

Hold on a tick...

She turned to the bar, meaning to get Raul's attention, but he seemed to have read her mind. She had a bottle of something a dark golden color and two shot glasses.

"This late, what else could you possibly want?" he smiled.

"Thanks." and she took them somewhat hesitantly. How had he known, and why did he give her two glasses? Never mind that, she had liquor. Tonight wasn't a total loss.

Shilo looked down at Han, his brow furrowed. "Is that so?" he sighed heavily. "I wish you had said so in the first place instead of sneaking off."

"I know." Han nodded. "I suppose...I was scared. I thought it would upset you. Even then...I guess I didn't know any better."

"It was nothing to be upset about. You just needed to explain it to me. Still, better now then never."

He'd finally had the courage to tell Shilo why he'd left, though now that he thought it through it had been an immature thing to do. It was a crystal clear memory of his waking in the wee hours of morning, the air in the Switchback already warm enough to make you sweat. Han had woken to a chilling sound, something that stabbed at his heart. Shilo's first son had been born that morning, and the cub's screeching howls of new life tore into him. At the time it seemed to sound too much like the first and last cry of his own child the night he was taken. It startled him and he decided right then to move on. He couldn't stand it.

"Do you forgive me, _ae mot_?"

"Of course I do." the Leonin bent down and gathered the human in his large arms, squeezing. "You are my brother, my dearest friend."

Han tried to breathe enough to speak. "Thank you."

Shilo let him go. "You're a strange man, Han. You tend to find guilt where there is none for you. Have you ever noticed?"

Han looked at him as if the comment took him by surprise. "Well...no. Can't say I have."

"Hmm. Yes, strange indeed." Shilo chuckled after a moment and mussed his hair with his large paw. "Good night, _ae mot_, I will see you on the morning."

"Night, Shilo." and he watched with a small smile to express the brotherly loved he was feeling. It was warmth in him that was rare and sweet indeed.

For a long while he sat there alone, slouching a little as he relaxed. He actually felt like he could. He almost felt proud about what he did, setting that bitch alight. It's like he did the world a favor by putting her away. Han sure as hell didn't feel sorry, and you could see it in the way he sighed and put his hand behind his head as he leaned back.

"Mind if I sit?"

He lifted his head, surprised enough to raise his eyebrows. "Um...of course."

Lightning took the only seat across from him. "Care for a drink?"

Teh'Han was puzzled to say the least. What on earth...why would she go out of her way to even speak to him, much less initiate some sort of interaction other than being in the same vicinity as him?

"That's...what's this all about?"

"It was a simple question." she said with a slight tightness in her jaw. It was no big deal. No point in letting an extra glass go unused.

"Well," he shook his head a little, hunching over the table. "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm a

mean drunk."

"It's fine." she gave a very slight grin. "I'm meaner."

"I guess I'll see that for myself, won't I?" he almost laughed, watching her tip the bottle and fill one of the glasses before pushing it towards him.

Lightning crossed her legs, pushing on the stock of the table to tilt her chair back, her arms crossed as one hand cradled her glass.

"So what's wrong?" he asked.

"What makes you think that?"

"I can tell." he emptied his glass and poured himself another. "So?"

"It's nothing." she scowled when she took a sip, and then knocked back the shot entirely. Strong shit. "Besides, what do you care?"

"Just curious. Thought I would return the favor." his tone was indifferent, but I wouldn't say it was true to his intent. "Another?"

"Sure." she sounded none the more gracious as she let him top her off. "You're in a damn good mood."

"Oh?" his brow lifted again. "Hm. Suppose a walk did me some good."

Lightning glared at him, her eyes narrow. "Where did you go?"

"Just out and about, nowhere in particular. We went through the plaza to have a look at the festival."

"Bet that was fun." she wanted to say he was lying through his teeth. "Can't say I would have guessed you would want to go."

"No, I didn't, but Fang wished to see it." Han poured himself another, quickly drank it, and then another.

"Where else?"

"What are you, her mother?"

Sometimes she wondered the exact same thing. "No, I'm just concerned. Last thing we need is everyone on to us."

"No need to be. I was looking after her."

Lightning nodded, one eyebrow cocked up. "This doesn't mean I trust you any more."

"I didn't expect you to." Han shook his head.

They went back and forth this way for the better part of three hours, quietly and almost unintentionally trying to out-drink one another. You couldn't tell by the way they talked, or even by the redness in their faces, but somehow you knew they were nearing the shitfaced mark. Maybe it was the way that Lightning only held her eyes half open, or the way Han let his chin rest in his palm so lazily? Either way, you could tell even if you couldn't see. It was going to be a train wreck.

How was that possible? Well, the liquor was stronger than you would think. Really. Its nickname was "bat shit" simply because of how bad it could screw you up.

"Fang is like a sister to me," Lightning confessed, not entirely meaning to. She was thinking it but a second ago, and somehow the sentiment escaped her mouth. "I just want to keep her safe."

"Of course," Han seemed to be having trouble keeping his head up on his own. "I don't doubt it. You know...maybe it's time for bed...sunrise...yeah." Han pushed the chair back almost too hard, it starting fall back as he tried to catch himself. Somehow he kept himself from hitting floor and made it to his feet.

"Sleep? Hmph, sissy." Lightning scowled, not having any ease or grace in standing either. She began to walk, or at least what she thought was walking, when in reality it was classy stumbling. She made it maybe three or more steps before she had to hold on to something.

Han was still at the table, his hand on it to keep him steady. He was staring at the floor, his face scrunched in a frown he wasn't aware of. Without his notice he was beginning to feel the same thing Lightning must have been, that unconscious impulse to divulge deep kept secrets. To indulge the idea that someone cared enough to hear him.

"It was your eyes." he said without thinking, swaying a little. "...You remind me of my wife."

"I'm not your wife." she replied. "Shut up."

"I know. Still...it scared me."

"Coward."

Han nodded and started to move his feet, his sandals scraping across the floor when he couldn't lift them high enough. By some stroke of dumb luck he just so happened to lean in the right direction, and stopped his calculated slump by grabbing the table and pushing up until he stood straight. Now he was right behind her, maybe separated by an inch or two.

"I'm sorry." he said.

"Shut up." she repeated.

He scowled, looking down with his eyes settled on the back of her head. "You do remind me of her...quite a lot."

"Go to bed." she half turned, looking up at him. Once the blurred image of him coalesced into a single figure, she was able to see clearly how forlorn he seemed. Then she made a strange, twisted sort of grimace and popped him in the shoulder. Mind you, she was aiming for his face. Still she received the desired affect, the big man falling to the floor and refusing to get back up once he'd realized he was there.

Lightning stumbled back, expecting to fall as well but was stopped, someone's arms beneath her own and lifting her up again.

"I think you've got the right idea, sunshine. Time for bed."

"Oh, Fang," and she smiled. Unnaturally so. Creepy. "Hi."

"Hi," Fang kept a hand on her, not sure if she could stand without it. "Come on, up the stairs with you."

"No, no, no, I gotta tell you something first," Lightning shook her head and pointed at nothing. "You...yes, you...you are my best friend, did you know that?"

"I do now. Thanks." Lightning was acting silly, and it was taking every ounce of her self control not to take full advantage of it. Still, she was drunk. Not nice to screw around with tipsy folk.

"You're my best buddy. I know I don't tell you that enough, but you are."

"Of course." because only friends would share their booze breath. Curl those nose hairs right up. "Now let's go,"

"No, no, there's more!" Light insisted, both hands on Fang's shoulders as if to hold her still. "There's more. I know I'm usually real cold, I know it, but I don't mean it, not to you."

"It's okay."

"No it's not," she shook her head. "You put up with so much of my shit." and she slurred that last word a bit.

"Okay, I'll give you that one." it was no lie. "Now come on, no more stalling."

"I'm not finished," Light protested, giving Fang a half-hearted shake. And what was supposed to be a friendly, loving embrace, was really just a controlled fall with Lightning's arms around Fang's neck, nearly pulling her to the floor with her sudden shift of weight. "I love you, Fang."

Fang cringed with a roll of her eyes, looking over to see Raul trying to cover a laugh behind his head as he watched from the bar. Nice to know someone found this so entertaining.

"Love you too, sunshine." she shrugged, trying to pry her friend's death grip loose.

"You do? That's great. Can I give you a kiss?"

"Sweet Jesus," Fang tried a little harder to get free, pushing, "not right now."

"Why not? You said you loved me."

"Not while you're sloshed."

"Oh, yeah, there's that." Light laughed a little, her arms loosening. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Now let's get going."

"No, not that."

"Then what?"

"This."

Fang just managed to move her feet before Light dipped her head and heaved. It sounded like someone dumping a bucket of water on the floor, though I'm sure you've realized it was anything but water that spilled across the wooden panels. And I'll allow you the esteemed pleasure of imagining the horrible retching sound she made as it all came back up. When it was over she stumbled back, falling into a chair that tipped back and hit the floor with her momentum. And just like Han, Lightning decided to stay there. The room wasn't spinning from down there.

"By the gods," Fang spat, though a part of her wanted to laugh at it all. "What a mess."

"I've seen much worse." Raul was now kneeling over a sleeping Han, trying to get his large arm around his neck that he might lift him up.

"Sorry."

"No, no, it happens all the time, though I can't say I expected it from her. She seemed so grounded." and he shook his head while he looked to the pair of boots sticking up just a table or so away. "Oh well, no harm done. For a moment there I was worried they would start fighting."

"Nah. Light just thinks everyone has a very punchable face." Fang snickered a little as she walked over and negotiated Lightning into her arms.

Raul laughed. "Good one."

With some doing and several near falls, the two of them escorted the sottish pair up the stairs. The genuine dilemma, however, came in a simple something. Fang knew which room was Han's, but she hadn't the slightest idea which one Light had claimed.

"It's no big deal," Raul tossed his head, "just shove 'em in the same bed." and then, more or less, rolled Han onto the mattress until he lay on the side of his empty shoulder.

Fang made a face, thinking briefly that it wasn't such a good idea. But that suddenly changed.

"You need help cleaning up downstairs?" she asked as he walked out of the darkened room.

"Heaven's no. It's nothing compared to some of the messes I've seen. Don't worry about it. I'll see you tomorrow."

It was when the vampire had closed the door at the end of the hall behind him that Fang realized just how heinous she could be. She had the makings of a sinister trick indeed brewing between her ears, something she simply couldn't resist.

Carefully, since she couldn't see well in the darkness, Fang eased Lightning on the bed butt first, then gently put her on her side with her back to Han's chest. With double the caution she took their shoes off and put them in random places on the floor. Fang did the same thing with various articles of their clothing. Now the two were down to their skivvies and Fang had draped Han's arm across Light's waist for good measure. Still...

Something was missing.

Then she had it, having to fight against the surging fit of giggles.

"I'm such a horrible person." she whispered to herself. "They're both gonna kill me."

But it was going to be _so_ worth it.

_(-)_

Dash was weeping. Right out weeping. He couldn't believe what he had allowed himself to do and now he was taking out his profound shame on the extravagantly fine silk throw pillow he had pressed against his face. He had been sobbing like this for the past hour, all the while Helm was appreciating all his hard work of the previous night.

Helm had piled their ill gotten gain in the middle of the floor, looking at each item lovingly from the pure silver kitchenware to the exquisite tapestry of a nude Saint Aela. Particularly that.

"Would you stop crying already? Seriously, you old gank, live a little." Helm grumbled a little at his sire as he adorned his neck with numerous strings of pearls and jewels. "We did damn good last night."

"That's why I'm _so_ damn upset!" he just couldn't believe how naturally good he was at five finger discounts. "I'm a common criminal! Mother would die!"

"But...your mother _is_ dead."

"_AHHHHH_!" Dash wailed into the air, his head tilted back before he shoved it back into the pillow.

"Come on, they won't miss it. Those rich tightwads have enough junk to begin with. Think of it as helping to cure them of their materialism." and in spite of his best efforts, it didn't seem to work one bit. If anything it made Dash cry that much harder. "Look, man, don't cry. At least we didn't have to wear the dresses."

That most definitely made it worse.

"Would ya shut it? The neighbors will hear. You'll get us both busted." he snapped then, quieting his sire substantially.

"I just...I-I j-just can't help myself," Dash was trying to rein it in but was half failing. "I feel s-so awful!"

"And I bet you'd feel worse trying to explain it to a judge."

Dash looked at his charge, mortified at the idea. He could almost see himself standing there before the jury, crying his eyes out. They'd put him away just so they didn't have to hear his caterwauling.

"V-very well," Dash sniffled in the end, "I'll stop. I just...I feel so guilty."

"I know you do, but you won't be once we sell all of this off and are swimming in gold and women."

"But I only want one woman...and gold was never a big deal to me."

Helm rolled his eyes. "You haven't seen that broad since, have you?"

"No, can't say I have." Dash sighed, listless. At least he wasn't crying anymore. "I wish I could."

Helm heaved a heavy sigh. "There are hundreds of women out there, Dash."

"And I just want one."

"You don't even know her name."

"So?"

"You're crazy."

"And you're not?" Dash cocked his eyebrow.

"Ah, touche`." Helm nodded in admittance. "Still, you understand me, don't you?"

"Oh of course, just don't expect me to be listening." and then, after a long moment, he shrugged. "So what is the agenda for tonight?"

"Well...let me think...what saints are being observed tonight?" Helm asked as he tried on an egregiously large diamond ring.

"I think it's Saint Khalastria and...Saint Altaire, though don't quote me on it."

"Hmm...I suppose we'll have to ask around to know for sure...otherwise we'll hit those districts tonight. Same as last night. In and out, easy job."

Dash sighed, his shoulders hanging. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"It'll be worth it, I promise."

"I suppose we'll see, won't we? Are we going to need the...disguises?"

"I don't see why...unless you want to?"

"Don't be daft." Dash scowled. "Why would anyone _want_ to wear such awful things? Saints preserve me, corsets have to be the worst thing ever invented."

"You'll hear no argument about that from me. Maybe that's why all them noble womenfolk are so moody, they're getting the life squeezed out of them wearing those things?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Lord knows it felt that way to me."

"Yeah, and you with such a petite girlish figure," Helm smirked.

"Go suck a mule."

Helm laughed, and after the that the two of them were quiet for quite a while. For several minutes the room was filled only with the jingle of jewelry and other loose wealth as it passed through the one vampire's hands.

"Did you hear anything else about that fire in the Kalitas district this morning?" Dash wondered as he set his sobbing pillow aside.

Helm shook his head. "Nothing really. Everyone thinks it was an accident, someone fell asleep with a lit cigarette or something."

"Does anyone know who it was?"

"I heard someone say it was Lady Miriam and her bondsman."

Dash's brow lifted and his mouth hitched up on one side. "Her?" he sounded genuinely shocked for but a brief moment, then his expression settled. "Well, can't say I'll miss the prissy nit."

"I don't think anyone will...though I can't say I'd wish that on anyone."

"To be sure, but I still won't miss her."

"Indeed." Helm agreed, and then stood up, brushing the creases out of his clothes. "Maybe we should raid what's left of the villa?"

"Please, Helm," he chastised his charge. "Have a little respect for the dead!"

"What good is it gonna do her now?"

Dash paused, the validity of the question sinking in. "Ah, I see your point. Still...touching a dead person's things...ewww." and he shivered.

"Fine, whatever." Helm shrugged. "Let's go get a drink instead."

"Ah, paramount idea."

_(-)_

The hard, rhythmic pounding in his head was trying to force him awake. He didn't want to obey it, he wished to sleep just a little longer. He was tired, but above all he was warm. Something soft had nestled against his chest, beneath his arm, and it filled him with a sort of fuzzy comfort that was better than any wool blanket he could've woven. Han hadn't felt this good, this content in so long.

He pulled the source of warmth closer to him, feeling it give softly beneath his grip. Something was beneath his nose, something silky smooth that smelled faintly of the open steppe at Archylte. That and something else, something unfamiliar that nearly made him open his eyes that he might identify it. He ignored the notion, not wanting to ruin this newly discovered peace. He didn't want to stop pretending he was home, sixteen years back, in bed with his dear wife.

_Naya, my guiding light. I miss you so much. Why did the gods take you from me?_

Han felt his face scrunching into a hard grimace, though he was only half awake.

_What had I done that was so horrible...to lose you and the baby? What had I done?_

Unconsciously he pressed closer to whatever he was holding, finding only shallow consolation in it.

Lightning could feel her head pounding as well, a terrible throb at the base of her skull that radiated all the way to just behind her eyes. And somehow it went into her stomach, tickling the itch to yak. Sweet Jesus, why on earth did she drink so much? Last night was a staggeringly clear visual behind her eyelids that she cringed mentally at. Why, oh why, did she do it? It was all that bastard Han's fault. He thought he was so damn smart spouting all that bullshit about falling down the fucking stairs when she knew damn good and well he was lying through his teeth. That Pulsian savage. It was all his fault she had this splitting headache and the urge to puke.

With reluctance and mental resistance she rolled over, her arm beneath her having fallen asleep. She rolled into something warm that stirred with her movement, and settled as she settled on her other side. Her skin tingled with a gentle heat. It felt like home. It beckoned a few more minutes of sleep, but the headache was arguing its own case.

Lightning groaned, deep lines surrounding her eyes in tension before she dared to part the lids. The oil lamp that hung from the ceiling was lit, though she couldn't remember when that could've happened. Hell, she couldn't remember falling asleep either. Still, even this dim light bothered her eyes, making her blink and her headache surge. She stretched, her toes pointing and her hands curling into fists at her chest. It was after she settled once more that she forced her eyes all the way open.

She froze.

Everything came into focus faster than she expected. Typically hangover goggles didn't allow for such clarity so soon. Maybe that's what surprised her, and not the heavily muscled and bare male chest that met her reddened eyes. At first she didn't know what to do about it, I mean, what would _you_ do? It was startling, disorienting...just down right odd. Slowly she lifted her head to look up, seeing Han's sleeping face amidst his tossed mess of brown and blonde hair. Was he really sleeping, or was he faking it? For lack of a better idea she prodded the middle of his chest with one finger, receiving no reaction. The second one produced the same result.

Then the novelty faded and was replaced with a very sobering sort of anger. Without really thinking she shoved his shoulder hard, though not hard enough to force him out of the bed. He woke startled, eyes wide and darting until they fell on her while he muttered something in Pulsian to vocalize his confusion.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?" she demanded to know, her brow knitted tight in spite of the lumbering pain in her forehead.

"You're bed?" he countered. Were they really in a bed? A bed...together? And by the looks of it she appeared...without clothes. Oh gods. "I tell you, I had no hand in this."

"I don't care. Get out." and she shoved him again.

"Now wait just one damn minute," he snapped, feeling there was no need for her to be so nasty. "Stop that!"

"Beat it!" and she pushed hard on his face with her open hand.

The two struggled, one trying not to be thrown onto the floor whilst the other fought him tooth and nail to put him there. Mind you he was doing rather well with only one hand. Then again, his hangover wasn't nearly as bad as hers. So...would that make them even?

"Who said this was _your_ bed anyway?" Han grunted.

"It doesn't matter," was her reply. "Get out!"

Something stirred behind Lightning, stopping the squabbling for a moment.

Fang lifted her head, eyes half closed with sleep. "What's with all the noise?"

Light had to do a double take, refusing to believe what she was seeing. There was no way...no, no, no, this wasn't happening. Somehow she had become sandwiched between Han and Fang, and she couldn't remember at all the circumstances that they came to be arranged in such a way.

I cannot accurately explain what was going through her mind at the very second that fact became apparent. What I can tell you is that her mind was filled to the brim with a supreme amount of fuck. And not the good kind. Her gaze was fixed on Fang, seemingly unable to turn her head away. If she had she would see how much Han's expression was very much like her own; red cheeked and awestruck with a slackened jaw. It was rather obvious neither one of them knew what to make of this.

Unable to put it any other way, I'll just say that Light began to panic. Her mind was very swift to put the simple equation of two-and-two together and form a very scandalous conclusion. This sent her scrambling to the floor in search of her clothes. Mind you she didn't find all of them, but she had yet to realize she was still somewhat dressed. She only assumed she was stark naked. And we all know what assuming does. She crashed into the hallway, going through the door and hitting the wall on the far side as her hands were too full to stop her momentum. You can imagine that such a commotion would've woken someone up. And it had.

As Light sprinted down the hallway one door opened, Hope sleepily rubbing the top of his head as he leaned out of his room to have a look. He sobered up almost immediately when he saw her, almost ignoring how she shoved him aside and closed the door of his own room on him. She left him out there to ponder what the flying hell just happened, all the while his mind now buzzed with very dirty, dirty things.

Fang was beside herself with laughter. Her face pressed into the twisted sheets, her chest heaving. Han still lay there on his side on the other side of the bed, rightfully startled if not downright confused. Why was she laughing? Why so hard? And how in the gods' names did all this happen? He couldn't even ask all these questions, he just gaped until she found it in her to stop for a moment and look at him.

"That was too perfect," Fang chuckled, wiping her eyes. She turned her head and saw his expression and had to laugh about it a little more. "You should see your face!"

"What happened?" Han could feel his heart pounding, ready to burst in anticipation of her answer.

"Oh nothing, it was just a joke." Fang waved a dismissing hand.

"Then why are we barely dressed?"

"Just for the sake of the illusion. Nothing happened, I swear." though he had a hard time believing that as she continued to fight off the giggles.

Han took a deep breath, relieved if not a little pissed. "If I were any other man I would break your jaw."

"I don't doubt that," Fang appeared unfazed. "Still, if you don't, sunshine will once she calms down."

"Why on earth would you do this?" Teh'Han slid off the bed, a sheet held against him though his loincloth still covered him.

"Thought it'd be fun." she stood now as well, finding her sari and sandals neatly placed beside the bed on the side table. "Couldn't help myself with you two being so slammed and all. I just couldn't resist the perfect opportunity."

"Really...is that all?"

"Isn't it enough? Come on, you can't tell me that wasn't even a little funny."

He almost did, his mouth even opened for the words to form in denial, but he stopped himself. Maybe it was, in an odd way. How? Well, I'll try to elaborate. One thing could be how Han hadn't felt comfortable enough to sleep in a bed for many years, not when he knew he would be the sole occupant. Yet last night he slept like a baby. Sure, he was drunk, but let's put that aside for the sake of the argument. Also, now that he considered it with a more sober approach, the only thing that had bothered him about waking in such a way was that Light appeared naked. That would bother anyone, to be sure, but it wasn't troubling that he woke beside her in the first place. It was almost nice having a warm body curled up against him for a change.

A pair with no attraction or general liking for one another constantly forced to interact. Sometimes uncomfortably so.

Han laughed a little. Yes, perhaps it was funny. An odd, saddening sort of funny. The gods were just playing with him. He had openly confessed Light's similarity to his wife, thus his natural interest, and now the gods knew and could throw it back in his face. Once the words leave your mouth, the gods know, and thus can act.

"Damn it all," he chuckled with his head hung. "Perhaps you're right. Although I imagine I should apologize."

"What for? I did it, no need to say sorry for me." Fang shook her head, now fully dressed. She bent down to pick up the brown stretch of cloth Han used as his sari. "Here, I'll help."

"Thank you. Normally Gurthang does it."

"You trained that pooch pretty well." she nodded. "And that would explain the drool spots."

"Indeed."

Light hid in Hope's room for a good long while, long after she had made herself decent. She didn't want to come out, to be completely honest. Not right now, for at least another week. For the first time, at least it felt like the first, she was embarrassed. She wanted to hide in a hole, but not before rearranging Fang's face...and took something for this gods-forsaken headache.

When she finally found it in her to go downstairs, she took each step slowly as every impact made her head seem to swell. Raul was already there, looking to be taking inventory, but the bar was otherwise empty.

"Good morning," Raul greeted with a soft tone, certain her morning after woes were enormous.

Light groaned as she slid onto a bar stool. "My ass."

The vampire tried not to laugh. He had heard the commotion upstairs, his imagination much more inflated than what really happened. Still, he found her response rather amusing.

"I'm sorry to hear that." he nodded, trying to hide the sly grin. "Care for a drink?"

"Good god, no."

"Not even some water?"

"...yes. Thanks."

He gave it to her in high ball glass, as a stein would've just been too big. Drinking that much at once would've made the poor girl puke. Again.

She emptied it in one slow, steady gulp. And then she asked for another, seeming to feel somewhat better.

"You're dehydrated. Once you've had enough the headache will ease."

"Thank you."

"Of course. So what is on your agenda for today?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't even thought about it." it was a strange feeling. You know, not having a plan. It was rather irritating, actually. Maybe it would be good to get everyone together and talk it out. Until then...well, dicking around was always an option.

"Will the bar busy again tonight?"

"Not so much as last night, but still quite busy."

"But the festival is over, isn't it?"

"Oh no, no, no," Raul laughed. "Not for another six days."

"A whole week?" Lightning seemed surprised.

"Yes, and I will not be here tonight."

"Why?"

"My father is one of the saints being observed tonight," he paused. "Though he and I never really got along, I still loved him. It would be wrong of me not to go."

Light thought about it a moment and let the thoughts move on. "So where's you're other half?"

"Sleeping. He'll be up in time to manage the place, don't worry."

"All day?"

"Sure. We can stay awake for days with only needing to sleep a few hours. I tend to forget you're not from around here."

And she just looked at him, surprised to hear him say that. After that the two were quiet for a moment, long enough for Light to finish her drink.

"It was all just a joke, you know. We didn't mean any harm."

Lightning cocked a sharp eyebrow at him. "We? You too?"

"Guilty as charged." his grin was toothy and from ear to ear. "It was just a bit of fun."

"Fun for _you _two," she rolled her eyes with a quiet grumble.

"What, did she do something else?" if she had, he didn't know about it. "I just helped her put you two to bed, that's all."

"Well...I woke up to a threesome I don't remember agreeing to."

Raul's slitted eyes widened and flexed, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. "...Kinky."

Lightning scowled at him, her bloodshot eyes only adding to the severity that made the pure blood shrink.

"So...I suppose...perhaps I should call for a mortician?"

Lightning almost laughed, never mind that it might be a distinct possibility. She was mad enough to do it, rest assured. "No. Not yet."

Raul nodded, glad to to hear it.

Fang, that pain in the ass, she thought with a quiet huff.

She had the nerve to shove her in a bed next to that savage brute. That same savage she was convinced would smell like sheep and shit but didn't. The same savage she thought would snore loud enough to wake the dead and grind his teeth, and be as cold on the outside as he seemed to be on the inside. But he hadn't, and he wasn't. He had been warm and quiet and still. And somehow his scent was a mixture of tobacco and cool earth. Nothing like she had expected. Perhaps that's why she hadn't noticed his presence right away. Although...

Heavy sleeper or not, he was still a savage. Nothing changed.

And Fang was still a pain in her ass.

Now what have I said before? Speak of the devil...

Two sets of footsteps emerged from the upstairs hall. One of them started down into the bar, the other left the inn completely.

Lightning had her head down, eyes closed, but she didn't need to look to know who slid onto the stool next to her. She listened, heard wood creaking, slitted her eyes and looked through pointed tresses of her hair to see twiddling thumbs. It was Fang, most certainly.

"Say something," she shrugged softly, "before it kills you."

"Who me? I wasn't going to say anything." you could hear that she was smiling. One of those ear to ear, sort of catty grins. Like if you looked over you would see horns growing out of her head.

Light didn't believe that for a second. Then she groaned and dipped her chin. "What did I say?"

Fang sniggered. "Nothing much...it's just that you're such a loveable drunk."

What? Loveable? Not a chance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Then the Pulsian native threw her voice in her best "Lightning the sloshed" impersonation. " 'You're my best friend, Fang, I love you,"

Lightning wanted to swallow her own tongue. "Please tell me you're kidding," she choked.

"She isn't." Raul interjected.

"Stay out of this,"

"You totally said it." Fang's grin got a little toothy. "Then you tried to give me a big ol' smooch."

"Oh god," she shivered.

"But I couldn't let you do it. I knew you'd hate yourself. Then you tossed your cookies and out you went. That's when we," she tipped her head towards the vampire behind the bar, "dragged your soggy butt upstairs and tucked you in. Everything else was my idea."

"I'd guessed that."

Then Fang started to laugh, to herself, seemingly unable to hold it in any longer. Light scowled hard, her eyes narrow and cutting towards her friend who she loved to hate at the moment. Then, with little thought passed the idea of the short-lived satisfaction, Light dumped the remainder of her drink onto Fang's head and kicked the stool over.

It didn't hurt her, far from it. It only fueled her giggle fit, her chuckles now full on cackling as she lay on her back with her feet kicking in the air. Not quite the reaction Light had been hoping for, especially after the vamp started to laugh as well.

Why did it suddenly seem like the Pulsian national sport was to make fun her?

Author's Note: Sorry this took so damn long. My muse decided to go on vacation without telling me. Still...I wanted this chapter to be a little lighter than the rest, kind of give you readers a break from the constant drama and...icky stuff. Something nicer...call it a Christmas gift or something. Speaking of which, I will, undoubtedly, not have the next chapter out until after the holidays. Plus I'm dabbling with some ideas for a new novel I want to write.

And don't expect any new illustrations either, as I have no scanner for the time being. If you get bored, you can always check out my fictionpress .com account for a few of my original pieces under the pen name "luckyfirerabbit". (forgive their suck, for I was young) Otherwise, I'll see you in a while, and I'll be right back to the plot when I do. And thanks to the reviewer who pointed out that somehow chapter 18 had been posted as 23, much appreciated.

Toodles.


	26. Chapter XXV

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

When you're not of the mind to sit or stand for something, the only other logical choice is to separated from it entirely. Which is what Lightning thought it best to do. She left the Blue Door, knowing to stay much longer would result in one of two, and most likely unpleasant outcomes.

With the echoes of Fang's laughter and Raul's snickering ringing in her mind she stepped out into the streets, starting towards Saints Plaza with no definite idea as to what she was intending to do now that she was out and about. She thought about it further as she walked, unconsciously counting her steps as she went.

Lightning came into the open plaza, out of the shadows of the district, flinching as the mid-day sun light hit her eyes. For a moment she walked about blind, her eyes tearing even as she screwed them shut. How she made it to the other side of the plaza at this hour, with all the traffic, is as much a mystery to me as anyone. Still, Light managed all the same, and she found herself on the way the party had first come upon their arrival once her vision cleared.

Perhaps, she considered, another call to the center was in order. It had been a couple of days, and though they had made little headway, it wasn't an all around bad idea. It was along this train of thought that Light realized that she had been overlooking something rather crucial. How were they going to get out of Arash in a severe hurry, should the need arise? It wasn't at all unlikely that it would be the case; as part of the Guardian Corps she had been a part of a handful of rescue missions, it was rare indeed that the entire operation went quietly. They would need a speedy means of retreat.

An airship would do. Yes, that would do nicely.

And she would only ever trust one pilot.

And if anyone could find him, it would be Bradley.

Best get started then, it was a long walk and the day was already half over.

You can imagine that she was convinced she could run the distance, no problem, but you'd be wrong. Mind you, she did try, but she'd never tried it with a hangover. Otherwise it would have been simple. Not even fifty paces down the road did her body start to reject the silly notion of jogging, throbbing in all the wrong places, namely her head. So she stopped when she could take no more, slumping to a steady walk.

Fuck my life, she shrugged in her head. Fuck it right in the ear.

She didn't feel like being stuck out here all night again.

Still, Lightning pressed on, once again counting her steps without meaning to. For the better part of the first hour it was quiet like this, a quiet wind whispering through the grasses around her being the only interruption. She became absorbed in it, let her mind dwell on the sounds instead of the headache. That sort of distraction, I would think, was enough to keep her attention off the faint sound of another set of foot falls closing in from behind. Or should I say hoof-falls?

"Where are you going?"

Maybe it was the natural grunt of Han's voice that made her notice him, made her tip up her chin to see him astride the same white mare from the other night. She just looked at him, her hand over her eyes for a moment. Then she turned away and said, "Out."

"Hm, sounds nice." Han nodded once, sounding rather uninterested. "Care for a ride?"

"No thanks." she didn't even bother the short moment to think about it. So stubborn.

"You sure? I'll keep her pace steady as not to irritate you."

"That's not it."

"Then what?"

I just don't want to, she thought. _I've been close enough to you for one day_.

"At this rate it'll take you all day just to get there. Wherever there is."

"That suits me just fine." Lightning straightened her back, her chin raised slightly as if it really did suit her.

"Hm." he nodded again. "Has anyone had the nerve to mention how pigheaded you can be?"

She almost paused. Sure, plenty of times, but not like that. No one had ever had the unmitigated gall to use "pigheaded".

"A time or two."

"You earn it fairly." he affirmed gently, not wanting to sound hurtful, but certainly nothing shy of honest.

"If I wanted this kind of abuse I would've stayed at the inn." she said in a slight huff, picking up the pace that she might walk ahead of him, hoping to get out of earshot before he said anything else. For a moment she was convinced she had accomplished this, but that idea was completely obliterated when, before she could blink twice, Han had lead the horse to a sudden gallop and stopped it long-ways across the rode in front of her.

Lightning nearly walked into the animal, right into its stocky body. She looked up at him, her brow knitted.

"You're serious?"

Han held out his only hand without a "yes" or a "no". But he was serious, indeed. What kind of man would leave a lady alone in wilds such as these?

"It'll be our secret, if you'd prefer." he said, thinking it would help his case.

"You're not gonna give it up, are you?" She cocked up an eyebrow at him, a shrug hiding beneath the indifference in her tone.

"No." He almost shook his head, and he almost smiled. Almost. "Come on. I'm sure, if you're careful, you won't enjoy it."

With that remark she relented, but didn't feel the need to accept his hand in order pull herself astride the horse. That, and she was beginning to suffer the distinct notion that he and Fang had been spending far too much time together. Light braced herself with one hand behind her as the mare began to move again.

As promised, he kept the pace steady, not wanting to jar either one of them. His head was still a wee bit tender, as he was certain her's was as well. Though you can imagine his mild surprise at what she said not a few minutes after they began.

"How old am I going to be by the time we get there?"

"How old do you want to be?"

Light scowled behind his back. He was getting way too good at being smart with her.

"Would you like to go a bit faster?"

"If you can manage it."

"Then you might wish to hold on." He wore a slight smirk, though not that she could see it. Han felt one of her small hands grip tightly to the back of his belt. "I'm not going to bite."

"No, but I do."

"Very well."

Han gave the horse a good kick in the ribs and it steadily eased into a gallop. He hunched forward, his hand fisting the mane, but kept his middle loose as not to rattle himself to pieces. He shivered at the distinct sensation of hair tickling the middle of his back, his mind forcing him to picture Light leaning closer to him. Was this too fast for her? Or maybe not fast enough...

He kicked the mare again, demanding a touch more oomph in the animal's locomotion. Like this they traveled along the road, blazing over a handful of miles in a matter of minutes when it would've taken Light hours alone.

Lightning had missed riding, missed having Odin charging mightily beneath her in the heat of battle. It had been a thrill, a wild rush that tugged at the back of her mind rather often. This wasn't the same as riding the divine stallion, but it was enough. Still holding to Han's belt she straightened, letting the winds whip at her hair and whistle passed her ears. Her heart hammered in her chest, her body throbbed with the swift blood in her veins. Damn this was good. Like sex in a thunderstorm.

But, as all good things must, it had to end once they reached the end of the kept road, where the statues stood vigil. With a silent shrug Lightning dismounted, fishing through her pockets for the cellular before starting the climb up Kalitas' noble visage. Like before she perched upon his shoulders, switching on the device that Bradley had given her and waiting for the light to change before hailing the center. As before, several rings transferred through the signal before someone answered.

"Thank you for calling one-eight-hundred spank me," came a humorless and lackluster sigh as the trademark sound of shuffling papers carried through from the background. "How may I help you?"

"Bradley,"

"Oh, it's you," he sounded genuinely startled, surprised to hear her voice. "F-Farron, what's up? How goes the mission?"

"Apparently not as good as yours." her tone was flat, but she was smirking. "Speaking of which, I need you to reach out and touch someone for me."

"That's a cruel joke, Farron. Not to mention bad. Who do you need?"

"Sazh, he's a pilot."

"Yeah, I know him. Saw him just yesterday, actually. What for?"

"I need a ship out here as soon as you can spare one."

"Okay," there was a pause as if he was looking for something. "Can you hold for a minute? I might be able to reach him right now,"

"Sure." then there was a click, the conversation coming to a halt for the moment. Some minutes passed and she watched as a hawk made lazy circles overhead. How long this tedious quiet lasted was trivial compared to how long it felt. Might as well have been forever.

_Click_

"Sazh speakin'," came the rough, tired voice from the other end.

"Sazh, it's Light."

"That's what Bradley said, nice to hear from ya. What is it you needed, exactly?"

"Can you get a ship down here?"

"Where is 'here' exactly?" he asked after a contemplative grumble.

"Some...maybe forty-something miles due north of Oerba. You can't miss it."

"All the way out there?"

"Wouldn't be here if it wasn't important, Sazh." she assured him, not liking the way he was sidestepping this. "And you know I trust you."

"More than anyone, sure I do." he grumbled again. "Well...let me think...I gotta get a few things together, get some fuel in the old girl...I can be there in two hours. I suppose you can fill me in on the specifics then."

"I owe you one, Sazh, thanks a lot."

"No problem. See you after a while."

"See you then."

_Click_

Han had tried not to listen in, knowing it was rude, but it was so damn quiet otherwise, it was a difficult thing to do. What was this pilot going to be like? Han was rather sure he had never met him before. He watched Light as she negotiated her way down the statue, but not so closely as she bent over the shoulder, her backside perched in the air in a way that a pervert would consider perfect. He turned his head towards his shoulder, pretending to watch the horse as it wandered through the grass nearby.

"Hope you don't mind waiting a while." she said when she had reached the ground.

"Didn't have anywhere else to be." Han cleared his throat, his fist at his mouth. Then he fished into his belt, pulling free his pipe and, eventually, the matches and tobacco he needed to light it.

Lightning leaned against the base of the statue, arms crossed as she watched him sit cross-legged in the grass. "What were you doing out here, anyway?"

"Just wanted to get out," he paused long enough to take the first few puffs, "wanted to go for a ride, I suppose."

Light looked at the horse from where she stood, almost itching to get in the saddle again. So to speak anyway. It was a bareback ride all the way here, and if she were any other woman she would've called that kinky. Out loud anyway.

Han must have been able to read the look on her face, if you could call it a look. She always seemed so stoic, so distant, but there was something slightly different as he glanced up at her through his uneven bangs. "Go ahead, we're not going anywhere."

"Huh?" as if she hadn't heard it. She most certainly had, you and I both know that.

"Ride for a while, it'll do you some good."

She just looked at him, unsure of what to say.

"I won't tell anyone if you have any fun."

"Ass." she almost laughed, but she definitely grinned.

"_Bah deh roh._" he shook his head, looking at the ground.

"What?" she straightened, her arms falling to her side.

"Nothing."

"What does that mean?"

And he just snickered. Snickered? She considered that perhaps she should feel insulted, but ignored the idea. Clearly he wasn't going to explain the comment at the time being, doubly so seeing how much it appeared to amuse him. Lightning forced the thoughts aside for now, and instead took up his suggestion to ride a while.

And it was a hell of a ride.

Across the grasslands and out into the hills, southwards to jump the river, and up and down stretches of the managed road the mare galloped at Lightning's behest. She felt the rush once more, the shudder of adrenaline in her blood. She had to fight the urge to draw her blade and hold it high as if to strike down some unseen foe. She missed the flight of combat, the charge of it all. In doing this she could revisit that bygone time that seemed so brief from today. The battles were over, but she was still here. But she didn't have to stay. For this second, this flickering moment, she was a valiant knight astride her noble steed and off to wage war elsewhere, to emerge in victory. Wow, can I belt out the crap or what?

Lightning was panting slightly when she returned to the statues, satisfied as her skin still tingled with lingering excitement. She smiled as she stroked the horse's neck.

"You should name her." Han said from where he sat, a short distance away but far enough to need to raise his voice.

"Why? Isn't she yours?"

"No." he puffed his pipe. "She's yours."

Lightning turned and scrutinized him curiously, her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Is my English really that bad? I mean what I said." he assured her plainly. "Think of it as an apology."

"For what?"

"Pick something, I'm sure you can. Still, go ahead; can't just call her horse."

It was customary for Kushtan men to offer a gift to a woman they felt they had wronged. It was just one of those things to smooth over any bad blood between the two, just in case sorry wasn't good enough. Han felt he had indeed done some rather foolish things in dealing with Lightning, things he felt bad about, and he didn't think it wise to let it sit and gnaw at him.

And, just between you and me, it actually felt somewhat good, giving. He had been living so selfishly for so long.

I'm sure you're wondering how he was able to afford it. He had gathered a small bagful of crystal pieces from around ground zero, curious as to what purpose they served in this mess. They turned out to be rather valuable.

"So?" he lifted his brow at her.

The sentiment wasn't lost on her, though you wouldn't have guessed that by her expression. She seemed confused, almost disbelieving. Maybe it was the simple fact that she didn't see it coming. They had only just begun to be on speaking terms, after all.

In any case, she felt a considerable amount of pressure from this new responsibility. It was like naming a child. You can't just call it anything. She walked around to face the animal, whose coal black eyes met hers almost immediately. Light touched the mare's muzzle, rubbed its chin and forehead, and the animal took a step forward to press itself into her shoulder. It was almost like a strange sort of embrace.

All the while Han watched, curious, finding it somewhat cute. Although, he was forced to admit now that, in spite of how she tended to behave, Lightning couldn't be such a bad person. There was something good in her that she simply refused to show, though the horse could sense it anyway.

"What about Valkyrie?" she said aloud after a while. The mare tossed its head, perhaps in approval.

"Sounds fair...strong." he didn't know what it meant or if it meant anything at all, but he didn't exactly have grounds to protest it. "Though she looks a bit tired now."

"I know." Light had spent easily an hour charging through the Hinterlands on its back. She pat the animal on the back and let it roam once more, strolling the short distance needed to sit not too close beside Han.

"So who was it you were talking to, Bradley?"

"Partly." She crossed her legs and hunched forward, her elbows on her knees.

"Who else, then?"

"An old friend. He's bringing an airship so when we get out of here, we can do it in a hurry."

"An airship?" Han half turned his head, his pipe between his teeth. "Funny..."

"Why?"

"Oh, no reason...just curious why we didn't use one to get here to begin with."

Lightning felt her insides tighten, her mind frantic to find a believable excuse. It was hard pressed to do so, mind you. The idea had never crossed her, believe it or not. "The whole fleet was too busy ferrying supplies to make up for the influx of refugees."

Han nodded, exaggerating the motion by tipping his chin just a little higher than normal. Like he knew she was just grasping at straws. "So it wasn't forgetfulness on the account of old age?"

"Excuse me?"

"Fang mentioned you were getting on in years." he dipped his head and turned away ever so slightly. "What are you, forty-something?" it was taking all of his self control not to laugh. Even a little.

Lightning refused to answer, reacting instinctively and throwing a closed fist in his direction. It landed squarely on the metal bowl covering his empty shoulder with a dull _pok_. She recoiled quickly but wouldn't allow him the satisfaction of seeing her nurse the stinging in her knuckles.

"Does that happen to you often?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"Shut up."

Finally he laughed, but it was a small one, enough to make his shoulders bounce. Then it was quiet for a moment. Just a minute or two passing before he said, "In any case, it's done now. No use in dwelling on it. Though it cost us a considerable amount of time...I suppose you could say that we've done some good all the same."

Maybe, just maybe, she thought. They had managed to save a satyr from certain death, Han had reconnected with an old friend...okay, sure, but let's take a brief moment and weigh it against the shit pile they had to plow through. Yeah, maybe not so much good then.

"If you say so. Though...I can't say I see me being tossed into the mud as a good thing."

"Depends on how you look at it." and since he was rather sure she wasn't looking, Han smiled from ear to ear, sighing as he leaned back until he fell flat into the grass.

They said little more, the silence eventually interrupted by a dull roar echoing across the sky above them. The two stood, watching as the airship steadily dropped altitude and came to rest some ways off the road. It was one of the smaller ones, typically used for moving small groups of passengers, but it was still loud. Valkyrie whinnied and bolted, startled by the unfamiliar racket, Han going after the mare as if on instinct. It wasn't like Light needed him to speak with this pilot, so what better to do, right?

The engines died as Lightning made her way towards the craft, the large ramp at the ass-end of the ship flopping onto the grass. Sazh strolled out, rubbing the back of his neck and looking somewhat dismayed. Maybe even exasperated. Or maybe, _just maybe_, it was that he had simply gotten older.

"Glad you could come so soon." she said once close enough for him to hear.

"Yeah." his reply was a sort of sighing grumble. He took a moment to look around. "Nice place you've wound up in."

"Nice enough, for now anyway."

"Where are the others?"

"Back at the inn. Why don't you park this thing a little further down the road?"

"Wouldn't that be a bad thing?" his eyebrows lifted in a curious way. "I mean...chances are, by the looks of it, these folks have never seen anything like this before. Last thing I want is for some looky-loos taking her apart out of curiosity."

"If you want we can bring you back later. It was a thought. If we need to leave in a rush it'd be closer, easier to reach."

"Yeah, I suppose so. We may just have to. Not meaning to inconvenience anyone,"

"You're doing us a favor, don't worry about it." she insisted.

"Now, tell me what in all is going down here." he crossed his arms, head cocked to one side and his brow tense. "I know a little bit, but nothing in great detail. Vanille might be in some trouble?"

"From what we've gathered so far, big trouble is more like it." her brow knitted tightly in the middle to match his. "But let's get moving, I'll tell you the rest once we're back behind closed doors."

"What can hear us out here?" Sazh almost laughed, surprised at the former soldier's caution.

"That's just it. I'm not entirely sure. Come on."

Teh'Han was returning from the impromptu chase to find the airship lifting off again, and not a word said to him in warning about it. His brow flattened, but he refused to worry as it appeared to simply be advancing closer to Arash.

"That woman." He shook his head. And Valkyrie did as well, seeming to feel his frustration.

Without another thought about he climbed atop the horse's back and rode to meet them a ways down the road, and then on over the last stretch to the city gates.

"Some place," Sazh tipped back his head, watching as the grand arch at the entrance passed over him. He didn't notice at all how the gatekeepers locked their eyes on him and refused to blink. They looked rather shocked about something. With that being said, would it at all be surprising if I mentioned how that reaction became rather prevalent as the crowds grew?

Everyone, humans, vampires, men and women, even Han all looked, eyes wide and unyielding. They had never seen anything, _anyone_ like that before. Children stopped in the middle of their games to look, unsure of what they were seeing. Unsure if it was real. For all they knew it could have been some new twist of sorcery. It was Altaire the Mystic's day of the festival after all.

"What's with the funny looks?" Sazh muttered, his hands deep in his pockets.

"You're going to get that a lot." Light answered casually. "Just keep walking and don't make eye contact." and that piece of advice came with a short, almost sarcastic laugh.

"Easy for you to say." he glanced over his shoulder, finding a street full of people that had stopped dead in their tracks. Still looking what he could have sworn was right at him. "It's starting to creep me out." and it certainly didn't help that some of these people appeared to have fangs and eyes that resembled those of venomous reptiles.

"We haven't had any real trouble with the locals yet," Light added, "although I'm pretty sure Hope was almost raped by a horde of starving artists the first day."

Sazh whimpered quietly. He didn't like the sound of that one damn bit. A tiny voice in his head was telling him he should've stayed home and that he was too old for this shit.

The ogling from the public didn't stop, in fact it seemed to get worse once they reached the plaza. All eyes seemed to fall on them, anyone who caught a glimpse stopping entirely. Some of the more curious began to follow but a few steps behind, unable to withstand the desire for a closer look. This went on for a long while, almost long enough for them to cross the plaza, and that was when Sazh couldn't quite take it anymore. He was convinced everyone was staring at him and he needed to know why. Just as he was about to twist around and confront his then unseen stalkers, something stopped him. Someone actually had it in them to address them instead of just stare.

"By the saints," a man gasped.

Now our party were the ones staring, at a tall, well dressed vampire that now stood before them. His perfectly kept hair gleamed crimson in the light and just behind him stood his bondsman who looked just as fascinated at what he saw as his master.

"You must forgive any intrusion, but I noticed what was going on and had to see for myself. I must admit that I've never seen anyone quite as...unique as yourselves."

"We're from abroad." Lightning answered quickly. This conversation needed to end as soon as possible.

"Foreigners!" he gasped. "Are you here for the festival, perhaps?"

"Sure."

"Fantastic! You must come to my villa," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm hosting a dinner and it would honor me for to be my guests."

"With all due respect," Lightning put a fist on her hip, "but who are you?"

"Oh my goodness, where are my manners?" the vampire laughed almost nervously. "I am the Bloodchief of Kalitas house, Hassan." and he introduced himself with a bent waist and dipped chin. "So, will you accept my offer?"

Lightning thought about it, not considering for even a brief moment of what the others would think of it. Her instincts were trying to tell her two things at once, although the louder voice was pushing her to go for it.

She tried to soften her tone to give her answer. "Our pleasure. When?"

"It's at the end of the week on the last night of the festival," Hassan seemed almost ridiculously happy. "I will send someone for you, would that suffice?"

"Sounds fine."

"Wonderful! Where can I find you?"

"We're staying at the Blue Door."

"Ah, Raul's place," Hassan grinned. "Very well, I suppose I will see you then. Very pleased to meet you all, by the way. I'm afraid I must run, though."

"Don't let us keep you."

"Good afternoon to you." and then he and his bondsman disappeared.

Han didn't like the sound of that conversation from beginning to end. It couldn't have been coincidence. It couldn't have been just simple chance. Did the bloodchief know about them somehow?

"That was weird." Sazh shrugged as they began to walk again. "Are we almost there?" he was feeling the need to hide.

"Just a little further." Lightning assured him.

"You two go on, I'll catch up." Han said quickly and then ducked away. He needed to return the horse to the stable, seeing as there was no room at the inn for it.

They went on without him, not concerned as he knew the way back.

Sazh did feel somewhat better when they had stepped into the shade and quiet of the Blue Door, almost happy to see the practically empty bar at the foot of the staircase that greeted them.

"There's the old man," Fang stood up from where she was sitting to meet him. "How goes it?"

"With or without me." he replied.

"Come on and have seat, you look tired." with her arm around the man's shoulder she pushed him gently towards the bar, to the nearest empty stool.

Raul heard the unfamiliar voice and popped his head up from where he was crouching to replace an empty barrel with a full one. His face suddenly set much like the faces of the people outside, wide eyes and blatant curiosity.

"Friend of yours?" One eyebrow lifted as his slitted eyes slid to the side to settle on Lightning.

"Yeah."

"Splendid." and then he went quickly back to what he was doing.

Francisco then appeared from an opening in the floor behind the bar, a piece of paper in his hand that he had yet to look up from. "We need to order more of that purple Hasha, Raul, we're on the last few bottles."

"Oh yes, I suppose we should. Drana's night is coming up soon."

Francisco hummed in agreement as he kicked the door to the cellar shut, finally looking up to see where he was going. But he didn't get far. He froze when he caught sight of their newest guest.

"Raul?"

"Yes?"

"Were we expecting anyone new?"

"No, but he's here all the same, Francisco. Say hello."

Francisco stared a moment, his brow knitted as if to scrutinize. He rounded the bar and came to stand right beside Sazh as he sat there. On the far side Fang watched, curious as to what was going on, more so of what was about to happen.

Then, slowly, almost uncertainly, Francisco raised his hand and put it to Sazh's cheek. He pressed, pushed back and pulled forward, then withdrew and looked at his palm. Perhaps he expected something to have rubbed off and leave a mark. When he found that no such thing happened, his countenance vaulted to sheer astonishment. He quickly turned and started for the door behind the stage, muttering something that resembled "it doesn't come off?"

For a brief moment Sazh was unsure of what to think. What the hell had just happened?

Wait a minute...

"Hold on a sec," he started just before he stalled. "All this...it's all because I'm-,"

"I think it is." Fang answered before he could finish, fighting a grin. She knew what was going on, and it was damn funny. Well, maybe it was his reaction, not so much the situation.

Sazh crossed his arms atop the bar, his head hanging almost low enough to pay across them. "Good grief. I wanna go home."

"Sorry, old man, you're stuck with us." Fang patted his back.

"You'll have to forgive Francisco," Raul appeared again. "He's...easily excited. To be frank, sir, we've never seen anyone like you before. Naturally he must have thought you had simply painted yourself that color."

"Naturally." he groaned.

"Perhaps you'd like something to drink?" Raul was sounding sympathetic. In a way, perhaps he was. He could understand how being singled out could feel at times. "On the house."

Sazh lifted his head. "I like you already."

"Can I have one?" Fang asked.

"You can wait until sunset."

"Why?" she almost whined.

Before Raul could answer, Lightning leaned on to the bar. "We've been invited to a bloodchief's party."

Raul's mouth was still open when the statement processed, his brow vaulting. "That so? Which one?"

"Hassan something-or-other."

"Ah, my brother-in-law, yes. I would imagine so. He likes strangers, and I suppose it doesn't get much stranger than you lot."

"Way to make a guy feel welcome," Sazh grumbled.

"What should we do?" Light continued their conversation.

"Did you accept the invitation? Then go. You would certainly be thought suspicious if you don't."

"Good point."

"It's not as big a deal as you think. I'll be going as well, Francisco and I are part of the entertainment. We will be there for you should something happen. Otherwise it is like any other social gathering you would go to."

Lightning seriously doubted that. It couldn't be like anything she had ever attended, considering how off a soldier's sense of fun could be once you get them drunk enough. She could share some stories.

"Though I'd imagine you would need something to wear other than what you have on. You'll need something more formal."

"Sunshine in a dress? Well, that doesn't sound like it goes against the natural order of the universe, now does it?" Fang prodded.

"That just sounds weird." Sazh didn't need to consider the idea very long to come up with that conclusion.

"You think that's strange? Wait until you meet Shilo."

"Who?"

Now, I know I've said this before, but I'll be damned if I don't say it again.

Speak of the devil and he appears.

The door at the top of the stairs swung open, Hope stepping through closely followed by the Leonin. The two descended the stairs.

"Just as you sent me to look for the boy, I crossed him on his way back here." Shilo explained. In reality, he had only stepped out a short while ago, a half hour at the most, at Fang's request to find out where Hope had disappeared to. No one had seen him all morning.

A talking lion, Sazh thought to himself, astonished. _Now I've seen everything._

"Where did you go?" Lightning asked, her tone almost motherly.

"The conservatory." his answer was low toned, very sober.

Everyone turned to look at him, noticing the severity of his expression. Something was on his mind, something very serious.

"What's wrong?" Fang asked wearily.

"I don't know really," and for an instant he sounded confused.

"What did you go there for?"

"I wanted to meet this magistrate guy for myself." and to be honest the encounter left him feeling sullied. Maybe it had been the way the pure blooded vamp spoke. That tone of voice that just seemed to make you think of grime oozing down a sewage pipe.

And that wasn't the entire truth, either. Frankly, he'd been tired of waiting on Bard to try and speak to the magistrate, being so hung up on his engagement with the orchestra. It was frustrating, nearly angering for the young man to sit through. He decided to do some snooping of his own.

Hope explained how he had gone to the conservatory, posing as a fan of the magistrate's work and feigning the desire to commission a painting. That seemed to make the receptionist much more agreeable to pencil in an appointment for him. He waited for a couple of hours, having left that morning only a little while after Bard had. His patience eventually payed off. The magistrate had been more than happy to listen to his falsified fan gushing about how much he admired his paintings, especially "this one in particular at the Blue Door".

_"Oh, that one, yes."_ Tezzim's voice echoed in his head. _"You know, you're not the first one to say that."_

_ "I didn't think so," _Hope had replied. _"That model was beautiful."_

_"Indeed."_ Tezzim made no attempt to hide the sensual undertone of his voice.

_"I'm honestly thinking of, if it's convenient, commissioning one for myself."_

_"You had best get in line, young man. Half of my colleagues want one as well."_

He remembered how hearing that nearly made him sick. _"That's a shame. I won't be staying in the city very long. I'm only here for the festival."_

_"Pity."_ Tezzim had sounded genuinely displeased, almost hurt to hear that. _"Well...I have an idea."_

They had been in the magistrate's office at the time, and he reached for a sheet of paper. He ripped a corner off of it before reaching for a pen to scrawl his name and a time across it. Then he handed it over.

_"If you're able, which I pray you are, come back tomorrow morning. You see, tomorrow is Aela's day and I try to have a bit of a...get together for all of my artist friends to celebrate. I'll be bringing her, so if you want a painting so badly you may come. Just give that to Vivian and she will show you in. Don't be late."_

All of this he had been so eager to give, almost too eager.

Hope relayed all of that, and once he was done, a heaviness fell over the room.

"I'm going," he said after a tense and quiet spell. "I might not be able to do much...at least we'll know if she's okay."

"It's a step forward." Lightning nodded, her arms crossed over her chest and her brow low over her eyes.

No one else seemed to have it in them to speak. Except Raul.

"It sounds like he thinks you're an artist as well. If that's the case, then we need to make you look like one. Come, I should have some clothes that will fit you, and you can borrow some of Francisco's sketch books."

"I'm trying." Hope said quietly, maybe more so speaking to himself than to anyone else. He was trying to convince himself that he wasn't powerless. "I'm doing the best I know how."

He followed Raul back into the rear hallway, the same hallway that Francisco had blown up the other day. The walls were still spattered with various colors and scorch marks. He let Raul pull him around his bedroom, manipulate him as he tried to find something suitable for him to wear. Hope was going to need the most plain, most ordinary attire Raul could pull up. Most artists in this city were broke, and you could tell.

After he was properly dressed, Raul sneaked off to Francisco's workshop, having to fight his dwarven statured companion for a sketchbook and some writing utensils. And by fight I mean a rigorous session of face sucking. He put it all into a leather messenger bag, something very common for the vocation.

"That should do it." the vampire cautiously asserted.

Hope thought he looked like an absolute bum. But then he thought back to all those girls, and some guys, that had wanted to do his portrait when they first arrived. They hadn't looked much different.

"Although I'll tell you this." Raul stood close to Hope, making sure the boy was paying very close attention. "Tezzim is a strange man. He likes pushing people, especially if he can get away with it. Chances are very good that he may want you to do something or go along with something...unusual." and by the way he said "unusual", he most likely meant "morally taboo".

"What should I do?" any advice was welcome. He wanted this to go as smoothly as possible, to come out with the best circumstances.

"Just go with it." was his answer. "Act like he's a man after your own heart, and just do as he suggests even if you wouldn't normally. You want him to think he can trust you."

Hope didn't like the idea one bit. He felt his courage wavering.

"If it turns out that this girl is a ward of Kalitas house, then the closer you get to the magistrate, the better."

And that renewed his resolve.

Author's Note: Oh sweet God, pulling teeth would've been easier than writing this...this crap! I had to force it, I won't lie. And in spite of my effort which could be, on the one hand, considered half-assed at best, I only managed to pinch off a chapter full of filler. Yay me. Still, with that being said, I should be able to do one of two things now: spend the next chapter causing innocent people more agonizing pain, or spend the next chapter moving the plot along. Chances are I'll be leaning more towards the first one.

Anyway, next chapter...well, we'll just see. Any questions? You know how to reach me.


	27. Chapter XXVI

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Here's a question:

Who's the bigger fool? The one with the plan, or the one who follows the plan along with them? I suppose they're interchangeable, don't you? I mean, you could look at it as simply a difference in just how dumb one of them is. Unless there is an admission of stupidity from one to the other.

Today Helm felt like he was the more foolish of the two, and had admitted as much to his sire. Last night could have been called, without a shadow of a doubt, a resounding disaster. It wasn't even dawn yet and the two were already back at their ramshackle home with their heads hanging, empty handed.

Somehow, by some twist of fate or chance that Helm simply couldn't accept, the house they had chosen to sneak into had been one of a very powerful sorcerer, although they hadn't been aware of that at the time. I mean, sure it was the Altaire district, so those folks were nearly a dime a dozen, but they had no idea who owned the home so full of trinkets and finery. It had been the villa of none other than Lord Anowon himself. Though Anowon was the only son of Saint Vasgoth the Fierce, who was no magician, he found himself to be quite accomplished in the mystic arts. At least, enough so to ward all of the belongings in his gallery with spells to deter any would-be thieves.

The first thing they touched set off some unseen alarm, the entire villa resounding with a horrible screeching sound that not a soul in all the city could have missed. This pressed the two pilferers to hurry it along, grabbing the nearest thing, regardless of what the hell it was, and making a swift retreat. But that didn't save them from any further trouble. No, the wards activated on the artifacts once they had been touched by unfamiliar hands. Helm had been holding some sort of...it looked like a ornately decorated serving spoon, to be honest, studded with gold and gems. The ward on it caused the object to burst into flames, nearly burning the vampire who was just quick enough to let it go. Dash wasn't so lucky. The stone idol with bugged out eyes and an unfairly large phallus started to corrode in his pocket. No one could've managed to pull it free before the green ooze coming out of it ate through his clothes and burned his thigh.

With all that being said, I think it rather easy to assume that their best stroke of luck all night was that they made it home without the Nighthawks tailing them.

Now Helm sulked, crossed legged on the floor while Dash laid in the bed, a wet cloth on his wounded leg. He looked to still be in a serious amount of pain, his face twisted and sweat dotting his forehead and cheeks.

"I'm sorry." Helm croaked out. The two had been silent for hours.

"It's fine," Dash replied, his voice tight through his teeth. "It was bound to happen."

"That's no excuse." Helm shook his head. "I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

"That's what I said in the beginning. Still...I'm here now and there's nothing to do about changing it."

The turned vampire huffed, sounding so full of self loathing it was palpable. "I should've just let you be. I was selfish."

"I know." Dash chanced to sit up, his hand pressing the cloth to keep it in place. "But you didn't. You knew I would stick by you regardless of what you were planning."

"Yeah."

"You took advantage of that."

"Yeah." Helm's head dipped lower, his chin almost touching his chest.

Dash sighed, looking down. "This'll probably scar too."

"Probably...how can I make it up to you?" he looked to his sire, despairing.

"For starters," Dash thought about it only a very short second. "We're taking the next few nights off."

Helm looked horrified in a way, but also understanding once all of it fell into perspective.

"Besides, it's Drana's day, and saints know we don't want to miss out on that."

"True."

Saint Drana the Merry, also known informally as Drana the Drunkard, shared the day with Aela the Joyous. There would be once private art galleries open to the public, dance expositions, the opera after sunset, and plenty of drinking to celebrate the two passed vampires. Most likely they would go to their favorite bar and just get slap-ass sloshed, and eventually slump their way home some time after sunrise. Which was, actually, a very typical procedure for everyone on this night of the festival.

"You're buying the drinks tonight." Dash added shortly after.

"Fair enough."

"And I get to choose the next heist."

"Fine-wait...what?"

"Those are my terms."

And by the look on his sire's face, he wasn't kidding. Helm didn't know what to make of such an ultimatum. It was easily the very last thing he expected to hear.

"W-why?" he dared to ask.

"Because that's what I'm asking for. You'll just have to trust me."

Did Dash have something up his sleeve? Helm highly doubted that, nothing too insidious to be sure. Still, it left him terribly curious as to what he was thinking. And the curiosity slowly eased into a well controlled state of dread when Dash grinned and laughed a little.

"I don't think I like that look, Dash." he noted aloud, warily.

"Just as well," he grinned. "I wasn't expecting you to."

"You're going to end up embarrassing me, aren't you?"

"Most likely."

_(II)_

It was early, too early yet to get up. Seriously, sunrise might have been five minutes ago. Most Arashi denizens were more likely to bed at this hour than rouse themselves.

Fang had planned to sleep another hour, at the very least. All night, when she had finally decided to turn in, she tossed and turned. No position was comfortable, no snooze steady. There was some quiet anxiety in her, refusing the let her sleep. When lying down didn't prove at all helpful, she paced for an hour or two and then tried again. Not much changed. She was exhausted.

With her face pressed into the pillow she absently listened to some of the faint noises coming from the hallway. Footsteps, most of them unfamiliar. Then there was the telling _tok_-_tok_ of hooves. Fang rolled over, now aware of just how early it still was with Bard being up and about.

Just a few more minutes, she thought. Just a few more.

It was quiet again for a long moment, quiet and still throughout the inn. But it didn't last.

The noise came from the bottom of the flight of stairs connecting the corridor of rooms to the main bar.

_Thump...tok-tok-tok-tok-TOK-TOK-TOK, screech-WHAM_!

Fang twisted beneath the blankets, a sharp motion that turned her completely around to see what the hell all the ruckus was about. There was Bard, spread-eagled against the door with his back to it. His chest heaved and his amber eyes were wide and frantic.

"The bloody hell," Fang rubbed her eyes, groaning. "What's the matter?"

At first he didn't say anything, his mouth hanging open but his jaw moving as if he were trying to form words.

"Spit it out," she demanded with a shrug, standing up and dragging the blanket to the floor as she walked towards him.

"Dinnae go out there, miss Fang, it isn't safe!" he blurted out, one of his hands fisting around the door knob. "There's-there's-there's,"

"_What_? There's what?"

With bushy eyebrows hiked to his hairline he said plainly, "There's a man down there."

Fang's expression flattened, one corner of her mouth twisting and one eyebrow lifting. "And?"

"Well," he hadn't expected such a sedate reaction. "He's not a man, he's a demon! And his hide's as black as midnight!"

Fang rolled her eyes. For pity's sake.

"He's gonna curse me! My hair's gonna fall out, my hooves 'll go soft!" and thus the crap came a-rolling out of his flapping jaws. "He's gonna give me horn rot! I dinnae want horn rot, I want 'em right where they are!"

Before he could say another word, Fang bent down and pressed the tip of one finger to his mouth. "Shush."

He stopped immediately, his eyes trained to the center for a moment before easing up to meet hers.

"You're being silly." she said with a sigh. "He's a friend of mine, and I can assure you that he's no demon. Sure he grumbles and groans like one, but that's because he's old. He's not going to hurt you."

"Really?" the question sounded strange as the satyr tried to speak out of the two open corners of his lips. "But-,"

"No buts." Fang demanded. "Now suck it up, and get a move on. You've got somewhere to be right now, don't you?"

"Aye."

"Then pay him no mind and hurry along. Yeah?" Fang straightened, crossing her arms.

Bard relaxed, sliding down the door until he slumped onto his backside. "Aye, I s-suppose you're right. I'm being a wee bit stupid, aren't I?" he laughed before standing. "Also, there was somethin' I been meanin' teh ask ya."

"What is it?"

Bard's face reddened as he twiddled his thumbs in front of him, his other fingers laced together. "I dinnae suppose...I was thinkin'...maybe ya wouldn't mind comin' teh the opera tonight? Orchestra members are allowed to bring a guest."

Fang thought about it, a little surprised at the request.

"I'd appreciate it, the support I mean." he dipped his head, looking up at her between his bangs. "Well, ya dinnae have teh answer right now. I'll be back early this afternoon. Maybe we could talk about it more then?"

"Yeah, sure, I think that'll be fine. Now get going or you'll be late."

"Aye, I will. Miss Sinclaire wouldn't be too pleased. I'll be seein' ya." and he crept out the door, closing it much quieter this time than before. Fang shook her head, partly entertained by his strange behavior. She then stretched and crawled back into bed._ I'll be damned if I don't get ten more minutes._

Bard tried his best to tiptoe down the stairs, cringing every time he hit a creaky board, until he reached the landing. Now there was perhaps fifty feet separating him from the door leading outside. He looked down into the bar, saw Sazh sitting at a table talking with Lightning, and kept his eyes trained resolutely on the man. When Sazh just so happened to turn his head and look up to see what was making that loud thocking noise, Bard stumbled with a startled bleat and then scrambled for the door.

Both of the humans watched him until the door slammed, a split second of light and rabble from the streets outside leaking in.

"Is that going to happen every time?" Sazh furrowed his brow just as he lifted a cup of coffee towards his mouth.

"Who knows." Light almost grinned. "He's a bit of a wiener to begin with, though."

"That doesn't help."

"Just thought you should know." she explained. "Still, just accept that people are going to stare."

"Hmm,"

The two chatted idly for a short while, maybe half an hour. Sazh tried to prod her for more details as to what the plan was, what they were going to do as far as Vanille was concerned, but she had no straight answer to give him. "We need to wait and see" was the most she could say. Both of them found the overall lack of direction frustrating.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I care as much as the rest of you," Sazh insisted gently, "but I'd hate to stay here any longer than I have to."

"Most of us would agree with you. Just...we don't even know for sure where she is. We've got a lead, but no support for it either way. Hopefully we'll hear something soon."

Someone was coming down the stairs, steady and heavy steps that made the two of them turn to see who it was. Weren't the overnight patrons all gone by now?

It was Hope, dressed in the clothing Raul had loaned to him. His brow was low over his eyes as he walked, appearing to constantly be checking himself to make sure his attire was perfectly shabby. And it was, with or without his help.

Lightning stood and started up the stairs towards the main door, meeting the young man there.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked when he had paused in front of her.

He lifted his head, still pulling on his clothes. "I think so. I guess," his gaze strayed as he thought about it. "I guess I'm a little scared."

"Don't worry, you can do this." she assured him, her hands raising to rest on his shoulders. "I know you can."

"I hope you're right. I mean...this isn't really my thing." he knew absolute dick about being anyone other than himself, and prospects were good that he was going to have to play the part of someone completely different.

"I trust you." Light insisted. "We just need information, that's all."

After a short while he nodded, though still looked deflated. "Okay. I'll do my best."

"Good luck." and she let him pass to carry on his way.

Hope stepped outside, closing the door behind him. He paused once more, for just a moment, taking a deep breath. In a way it steeled him, but in another it just made him feel heavy. He could feel it in his steps, his shoulders, even his fingertips felt like they were being pulled towards the ground as he walked. He did his best, though, not to show how he was feeling. He wanted to look like he knew exactly where he was going, what he was getting himself into.

_I can do this._ He chanted in his head. _Show him he can trust me. Doesn't sound too tough._

But the young man had no real idea as to the kind of man, so to speak, the magistrate really was. I can assure, however, that he would before the day was out.

In spite of the mild weather, Hope could feel sweat dotting the back of his neck as he drew closer to the conservatory. One of his hands was shoved in his pocket, nervously stroking the piece of paper with his thumb. He knew he needed to calm down.

_Just get it done, that simple._

Yes, simple, but not easy.

He reached the steps and paused one last time, taking a final reinforcing breath. Then he swallowed, pushing himself to advance.

Once inside he went to the receptionist's desk, giving her the slip of paper just as he was instructed to by the magistrate, and then followed the woman to wherever it was he was meant to be. She took him to a winding metal staircase that spiraled up a column, ending at the top and to the second floor landing. That is where she left him, certain he could make it on his own the rest of the way.

Hope started upward without hesitation, well aware and almost fretting that there was no turning back now. He was here, and that was that.

At the top was a wide, empty space. An open, circular gallery lined with columns and whitened by the unhindered sunlight. Hope looked around, actually somewhat impressed by the look of it. He spotted the other artists right off, maybe a dozen by brief count, some of them having already set out their tools and propped up their easels in order to begin. Most of them were vampires, women, though two or three might not have been, he couldn't readily tell. But he was certain about one of them; an older gentlemen with almost nothing to him and eyeglasses that were more akin to hubcaps compared to any he had seen before. They made him look somewhat...bug like.

But where was the magistrate? He didn't appear to be here.

"Ah-hah! There you are!"

Hope twisted around, seeing the magistrate from the shoulders up as he came out of the stairwell.

"And I had just asked Vivian if she had seen you," Tezzim laughed. "Fantastic. You'll have to excuse my tardiness, I'm afraid I had a late start this morning."

"It's fine." and Hope shook the vampire's hand when he extended it, surprised to find his grasp so cold. "I'm just grateful for the invitation."

"Well, how could I resist an adoring fan?" he smiled. Yes, how could he? "Anyhow, I suppose if you can wait a few minutes we'll begin."

Hope could feel himself getting anxious again.

"Um, might I ask," the magistrate's tone changed, "where are your tools?"

Hope felt his stomach threaten to bottom out. Sweet Jesus, he had completely forgotten the satchel.

"Oh, um," Hope stumbled, "I guess I was so excited to get here, I must have overlooked them."

"Good heavens, boy, no wonder you're broke." Tezzim shrugged. "Ah, all is well. I suppose we can find something for you to do."

Poorly hidden giggles were starting to echo between the columns and off the ceiling, the magistrate turning his head to see many of his lady friends with their hands in front of their mouths and clearly looking at his guest. Would you be at all surprised if I said this gave him an idea? Of course not.

"If you'll excuse me just a moment," he turned, paused, and then looked back. "Why not take a moment to get acquainted? You're a fan of hers too, right?"

Hope stepped aside, watching him pass before easing back into his previous place. For just a second he had no idea what he was talking about, convinced it was just himself standing there. Then he remembered what he had come for in the first place.

Tezzim's stature had been great enough to hide the slave that had followed him here. Hope couldn't help but stare at her, I mean, it had been so long since last they saw one another. He thought himself lucky if she even recognized him now. Then again, he was having a slight difficulty in that as well.

Her hair wasn't in the pigtails he was so accustomed to, and it was longer than he remembered though slightly. She appeared thinner, he could make out a couple of ribs peeking just below the hem of the immaculate white silk wrap she wore. A veil obscured part of her face, but he knew it all the same, once she lifted her eyes to him.

Vanille felt her heart skip, unable to readily believe what she was seeing. It was too good to be true. He was older now, but who else could he be? Her entire body tensed as she fought the urge to address him, to even throw her arms around him. She wanted to, gods knew she did, but it would do nothing other than cause trouble. So she just stood still, eyes fixed on him, unable to say a word. She did her best to keep her heartbeat under control, convinced Tezzim would be listening for it.

_Yeah, you're just a fan, you've never met._ Hope told himself. _Introduce yourself_.

His face reddened. "Hi, I'm Hope." maybe he thought himself a little silly. "Nice to meet you."

Vanille picked up on what he was doing right away. She feigned a smile, though it was very good to see him. "You too, I'm Vanille."

"Pretty name." he replied. "God, you're gorgeous in person. Better than any painting."

She felt her insides shrink. He'd seen it. "Th-thank you."

"I'm really excited," he shuffled his feet a little, appearing nervous. "Can't wait to get started."

"I'm sure."

Her tone of voice was odd, he noticed. It seemed so...sad. It hurt his heart.

"You're here for the festival?" she asked him, trying to keep up the illusion.

"Yeah, me and some friends." Hope tried to emphasize the last word. "I don't think we plan to stay much longer than that, though."

Vanille nodded. "How did you end up here? I mean, how do you know the magistrate?"

"Spoke with him yesterday. I'm staying at the Blue Door and that's where I saw the panting, I wanted to talk to him about getting one. You know, as a souvenir. Then he invited me here." He sounded completely casual, though the way his eyes were set he was practically screaming _yes I saw you naked, but I'm not a pervert, really!_

"You're an artist?"

"Just getting into it, actually," he rubbed the back of his head, laughing as his ego shrank. He was such a bad liar. "But I suck at it." he was lucky if he could properly scribble a stick man on his good days.

"Good news,"

Hope twisted around at the sound of the magistrate speaking, watching him as he walked towards them.

"It's a _crying_ shame you didn't bring your things-um...forgive me, but I didn't ask your name,"

"Hope."

"Hope," he tested, thinking it an odd name for a man. "Well, anyhow, real shame, but it turns out that some of the ladies here like the way you look. They wondered if you'd be willing to model for them. You can have your choice of the finished work as payment."

Hope heard the giggling again, leaning that he might see around the vampire. A few of the women were red faced, suggesting exactly what they were thinking. Hope felt himself pale. Not again.

"Um...okay...I guess that's okay." he answered reservedly.

"Fabulous!" Tezzim sounded truly delighted. "Now that I think of it, red and silver do go so well together."

"Pardon?" but the word came as a half-silent squeak from Hope's mouth. His widened eyes glanced at the other painters again, one of the lady vamps having hooked a fang on her lip, her slitted eyes stuck on him. "Oh man."

Vanille stiffened. No, not this, not in front of him. She wanted to cry just at the thought of it, but swallowed it down. It wouldn't help. She only furrowed her brow, shrugging quietly. _Just do it. It isn't like you can say no._

Hope only had a faint idea of what the hell was going on, or what this had suddenly become. All he knew for certain is that he didn't expect it, and a large part of him didn't like it.

But he needed to pretend the opposite. He had to remember that this was permissible, this is normal, this is what he was into. Whatever _it_ was.

There was a cushioned chaise-lounge situated in the middle of the room. Hope watched as Vanille passed him without another word, going towards it and stopping once beside it. To his surprise, or maybe even his horror, she began to undress.

"Come on, boy, don't keep us waiting." the magistrate insisted as he arranged his tools. "Don't have all day."

He almost apologized as he managed to pick up his feet, which suddenly felt so heavy, and move. His strides were even, steady, until he came just close enough and he became aware of the scars on her back. Vanille was turned away from him, allowing him an unhindered look. Some of them were seemingly new, still red and raised, while others were pale and in the stages of flattening. It broke his heart, made him somewhat sick. But he kept quiet, forced his composure to maintain. He pretended not to notice.

"Get naked!" one of the female artists yelled from across the room, getting all the other girls laughing at the face he made.

Hope didn't allow his surprised to show for but a second before he made himself laugh. "Patience, ladies, patience." Oh gods, did it feel sleazy saying that! Then, with as much reluctance as he was able to keep hidden, he began to take his clothes off.

_This sucks._ _Arashi women are crazy. _He grumbled mentally. _Never again...if I can help it._

For the next hour the both of them were gawked at and jerked around into various poses, the women still giggling behind the cover of their sketch books as they scribbled. The few men that were present were focused entirely on what they were doing, their gazes lifting and falling, back and forth from the paper to the models. Tezzim laughed once, dwelling on Hope, which the young man simply blamed on how embarrassed he must've looked. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, warmer than ever, so they had to have been red. He had been unable to keep his eyes away from Vanille for no more than a handful of minutes at a time. That was certainly the cause of it.

Tezzim set down his charcoal pencil after a while, nodding suddenly with a downward jerk of his chin. "Everyone done doodling?"

Nearly everyone nodded. One abstained as she was far too busy with her hands in Hope's hair, convinced it wasn't naturally that color. In any case they moved on, ready to do a portrait of the pair.

"Let's pick a pose everyone can agree on." Tezzim affirmed. "I can't be here for very much longer."

"You excited about the opera, lord magistrate?" one of the other painters asked.

"Very much so. Now, let's see," Tezzim approached the two humans, his gaze contemplative and his expression deeply lined.

"Something romantic!" one said excitedly. A young girl no less.

"Something classical." another countered.

"Something dynamic." the old man with the unnaturally large glasses managed to put his two-cents in. Everyone looked at him, possibly surprised that he could see anything enough at all to make a suggestion.

"Let me think," was the magistrate's answer. "Come here, lad," and he blindly reached out, grasping until he found Hope's arm to grip. He pulled him over, giving him a moderate shove to lay on his back on the chaise. Hope let himself be manipulated, thinking it best just not to fight it. Although you can imagine how weird it was. Really, think about it; how would you feel about a grown man yanking you around while you're in your birthday suit? Hm? Yeah, that's what I thought.

"Now raise your back, yes, just like that."

Tezzim had him propped up on his elbows, his back bowed upward in a way that raised his chest just so. Okay not so bad, until he started moving his legs. Tezzim bent one leg so that his foot was beneath him, supporting a fair amount of his weight as it forced the muscles in his thigh to bunch. Thankfully the vampire allowed him to rest on his other hip and kept the corresponding leg extended.

_I'm gonna get a cramp._ He shrugged quietly.

"Ooh, that's very nice, lord magistrate."

"I thought so." Tezzim looked pleased, nodding. "Now for you, little one."

If Hope hadn't been uncomfortable before, he was about to be.

With his clawed hand pressing against her naked backside, Tezzim pushed Vanille over him, one knee going between Hope's thighs. Her other knee pressed into the chaise cushions out side of his leg, bending with her weight as the vampire continued to push her forward. Hope was feeling his heart rate spike.

Tezzim laughed. "You act like you haven't done this before."

"Well," he replied with a reddened face, laughing nervously. "I'm usually the one in your shoes, sir."

The magistrate laughed again. "Indeed. Now...let's put his hands here, yours there...dip your chin...and bend your back...there we are." Tezzim took a step back, looking the pair up and down.

Hope wasn't sure how he was feeling, though he was certain his blood pressure was an all time high. Their hips were pressing together, Vanille's nethers resting atop his one thigh that she hand pressed between her knees. And in this pose he had an unchallenged view of her naked body. His reaction was natural. He started to sweat, his skin warming, and he had to fight the urge to touch her. The magistrate had pressed one of his hands against her stomach, the fingers splayed and the palm flattened just above her navel. The other rested atop her thigh. Her fingertips pressed gently into the middle of his chest, the palm raised as if to give the illusion of a half completed gesture. The other gripped his forearm beside her.

There was no lying to himself about his feelings. He'd thought about this before, but not under these circumstances. He didn't want it this way. And the look on her face...it destroyed what desire was starting to bloom in him. It was a look of distance, submission, that of someone who had been worn down to the last threads, exhausted. The collar around her neck, and the bite marks he spied, only reinforced the idea. That look would brand itself on his memory, haunting him.

"Everyone satisfied?" Tezzim turned to his friends.

Not a word, but a collection of nods gave was his answer. One of them snickered, gods only knew why.

"Very well. Now do hold still, we'll try to finish quickly." and that is where he left them. Some of the other artists grabbed their things and moved, perhaps wanting a different angle. One of them had come uncomfortably close, sitting on the floor and looking up at them.

For several minutes it was quiet as a crypt. Artists busily pressing paint to canvas, the models stock still.

"You've done this before?" Hope whispered, moving as little as possible.

"Yes." the answer sounded detached, yet an almost shameful admission. Part of her didn't want him to say anything else, she didn't want to think about it. She just wanted to let her mind wander elsewhere, only coming back when this was finished.

He had prayed her answer would be no, but deep down he had expected the reply. Which led him to wonder, what else had she gone through? If he knew what had transpired over the last three some months, would he be able to keep his composure this controlled? I severely doubt it.

That was when he chanced to lower his eyes, to her hand on his arm. It was turned in such a way that he was able to glimpse something that shouldn't have been there. Something on her wrist. Vanille shifted, adjusted her weight, and he was able to see it for what it was

Stitches.

His heart sank right into his feet, a shiver up his back and a knot forming in his chest.

"What is that?" he had to ask, but did it very quietly. He had to be sure.

"Nothing." the same isolated tone.

His brow furrowed. "What happened?"

"Don't ask." she couldn't bare the thought of having to explain herself. Though her expression hadn't changed, her insides were all twisted up. She was hurting.

Three hours went by without another word between them.

"How's everyone coming along?" Tezzim had lifted his head, a brush behind his ear and a smudge of paint on his jawline.

"I'm finished." the senior with the bug glasses announced. He'd been finished for a while, actually.

"Me too." said another, and then another.

"Just a minute...there. I'm done too." the artists that had been sitting on the floor stood up, gathering her things as she did.

"Fabulous. You two can get dressed now."

Hope felt some bones pop when he moved, letting out a breath of relief. _Finally_. The first thing he reached for was his pants, those being top priority. It was one thing to have no shirt, it was a completely different ballgame to have your stuff hanging out. What if _that's_ what those women had been giggling about?

As he dressed, Hope found a piece of Vanille's clothing near his own, grabbing it up before pulling his shirt over his head. Without fail she came to him, arms crossed over her breasts to cover them. Without her having to ask he relinquished it, gripping her hand gently when it touched his. His mouth moved, no voice behind it. He said something in silence, something she didn't readily read as she looked at him. Her expression was a curious one, but didn't linger on it very long. She could consider it later.

"You were a good sport, lad," the magistrate complimented as he stepped up to him. "Although I'm sure it didn't hurt having a pretty girl in your lap."

Hope wanted to gag at how the vampire grinned at him. "Naturally. Thanks again for inviting me."

"Of course. Now come and choose which you would like to take with you. None of them are dry just yet, so I can have it sent to you later."

To play to his ego, he chose Tezzim's painting after only a brief glance at the others. That seemed to disappoint some of the ladies, who thought they had put their heart and soul into it. They wanted the silver haired boy's attention, yet failed to get it. Now they would go home and cry about it, then forget it the next day entirely.

Vanille didn't listen, but watched as Hope continued to speak with the magistrate. Her mind was buzzing, trying to decipher what he had tried to tell her without chancing anyone else hearing. She wasn't much of a lip reader, but she felt close to understanding it. Still wondering she saw him shake Tezzim's hand, though considered that he didn't want to when she noticed how tight his body seemed over it. His body language was speaking volumes. Did Tezzim notice it too?

Hope turned to leave, reaching the top of the spiral staircase before taking one last look back. He caught Vanille's gaze for but a moment. How much he hated having to leave her here. It was the last thing he wanted to do, it was nigh on against his nature. The despair was in his eyes, the quiet desperation dimming the normally so vibrant aquamarine. He made no gesture in parting, hoping the look on his face had been enough to convey his feelings. Saying anything, any stray movement, might have been too risky. The heaviness he felt when he first arrived returned, pulling him down as he descended the stairs.

Somehow that look, that last fleeting glance, had made it clear to her what he said. What he had tried to do to reassure her.

_We'll come for you. I promise._

Hope could feel himself getting sicker to his stomach with every step he took closer to the inn. His guts were wrenching, horrible images flickering in his mind of where those scars might have come from. He didn't make it to the Blue Door before he couldn't keep it any longer, ducking into a darkened side street and retching in the shadows, his palm clutching his belly.

He couldn't stop himself from thinking about it, asking himself all the nasty questions and "what ifs". And that damn man, that blood sucker that the mere thought of suddenly filled him with such a rage. A little hiss in the back of his mind kept telling him he was responsible, that whatever pain she had suffered was on _his_ hands. If only he knew the truth.

Somehow he made it to the inn on his own power, his knees aching from having spent a long time on them on unforgiving cobblestone. They were bruised, but he didn't care. And his throat still itched with the need to puke, but he tried not to show it. He was expecting a horde of questions as soon as he walked in the door, but I'll be damned if he was willing to face it now.

Hope wanted to be alone right now. He just wanted some quiet so he could think about this more clearly.

The bar was empty when he stepped inside, much to his surprise. He took it as a small blessing, hurrying quietly along the walkway around to reach the stairs that would take him to the hallway of rooms. Just a little bit further and he could be alone.

He made to the end of the corridor, just steps away from being surrounded by the seclusion he needed, but he stopped at the sound of creaking hinges behind him.

"Hey," it was Lightning, having heard his footsteps and stepped out of her room. "How did it go?"

He didn't turn, but lifted his head that he might look over his shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

Light's expression softened. She felt sympathy for him, though not knowing why. "Did you find out where she is?"

He nodded. "Kalitas house. I talked to the magistrate."

"That's good." she paused. "It's going to be okay, Hope. I swear."

"I know." and he disappeared into his room without another word.

Author's Note: I had to force this one a little bit, as I'm sure you can tell. Sorry about that. It was a little challenging for me, considering how little I had done with Hope and Sazh up until now. I needed to do more with the two of them, plus I wanted to explore how Hope was taking this, the nature of his feelings for Vanille. I think I did fairly well without touching anything too corny or dramatic. Anyway, um, yeah, I'm going to get right on the next chapter, since the words are flowing so well now. See you later!


	28. Chapter XXVII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

"The boy sounds very troubled."

Light's eyes lifted as she stepped back into her room, falling on Han who sat in the chair beside the dormant fireplace.

"You could tell?"

"How could I not?" he had heard the two of them speaking in the hallway. The pain had been very heavy in Hope's voice.

"I guess you're right. Hate it for him, but it had to be done." she shook her head, going back to the bed where she had her gunblade laid out in all of it separate parts for cleaning.

Teh'Han nodded, digging into his clothes for his pipe. "It's understandable."

She agreed, though she didn't vocalize it. Lightning went about the almost systematic process of cleaning the weapon, piece by piece. Han watched her from the chair, curious, almost marveling at how quickly, how fluently she worked the strange armament. Particularly when she regarded the blade. She cared for it with such an air of reverence, sharpening it, and she did it all so quickly without a single nick to her delicate seeming hands.

Once all the parts were cleaned, a small multitude of them received a generous squirt of oil or smudge of grease before being negotiated back into its original place. With one tool she managed the apparently trivial task of reassembly. Lightning held it out in front of her, looking down the spine of the blade as if to make sure it was straight. Then, with the flick of her wrist it changed into a gun. Twice more she performed the action, assuring herself it would do so smoothly. When she felt satisfied she slid it back into the holster that was currently hanging from the bedpost.

"Now," she started again, still sitting cross legged atop the bed. "Tell me more about these vampires. How do they fight?"

Han had been waiting this whole time for her to continue their conversation that had been interrupted by Hope's passing by.

"Have you ever been hunting? It's much like that." he puffed his pipe, seeing the slight confusion on her face. "It's how they think, it's all instinct. First they watch you, usually without you knowing. They find how you're strong and how you're weak."

"They calculate?"

Han nodded. "And very quickly. Some of them...hunting is all they do. Killing is in their breeding." he was making a picture in his head of the Nighthawks, the perfect example.

"Can they see in the dark?"

"As well as they can during the day if not better. And all of them can smell better than any dog I've ever seen."

The more she heard, the less she liked.

"I've seen one disappear into thin air before, even fly without wings or a gust of wind. I don't know what made them, but I hope they're damned for it." and that last remark was full of bitterness. "I honestly don't know what in all they are capable of, although I would think any guess would be close to truth."

"How do you kill them?" a very important question indeed.

"As you would kill anyone, they're just not as fragile as we puny mortals." and he laughed a little. "Why so many questions? You intend on doing away with some of them? Not that I would fault you,"

"If I have to." Lightning answered resolutely. "What, that bother you?"

"What business is it of mine?" he shook his head, eyes closed. Though he _did_ feel a tickle of concern in his belly at the idea.

He sounded indifferent, Light thought, but somehow she had a feeling to the contrary. Don't ask why. Maybe it was how he couldn't look her in the eye when he answered her last question. Would his eyes give him away?

"Could I count on you?" she asked suddenly. "If it came down to it and we had to fight our way out?"

He opened his eyes, brows raised in consideration as he looked at her briefly. "I make no promises. If I could honestly say yes, I would."

Well, Light thought, at least he wasn't trying to give her false confidence. Couldn't look down on him for that.

And Han truly was being as straightforward as he could. Gods knew he was a damned coward when it came to those fanged bastards. The idea of going toe-to-toe with one made him shiver. Yes, he had promised Fang to do everything he could to help, but there were some things his terror just wouldn't give allowance for.

"Although,"

Light lifted her eyes to him when he began again.

"If it meant the survival of one us...any one of us," he paused, taking a short breath, "I would try my damnedest so you could."

There he was, facing that fear again like he had in simply coming here. It was admirable. "I appreciate that."

He only nodded, resuming a steady puffing on his pipe. The two were quiet for a time, perhaps wondering why they were still in the room together; Han curious as to why she hadn't asked him to leave, her wondering why he hadn't dismissed himself. There certainly was no desire to maintain the company, but also no itching need to end it. There was a mutual acceptance of their joint presence.

"Can I ask you something?"

Han tapped his pipe into the quiet hearth, finished with it. "I don't see why not."

Lightning had been wondering about it for the last day or two, mostly wondering if it had actually happened. "Did you...do I really look like your wife?"

Han felt himself flinch, his chest tightening suddenly. He had said that, and for the first time since he was regretting it. Damn it all.

"In the eyes...that's about it." though that wasn't true. There were other things that made him think of Naya, but he wasn't going to share that. Not openly, not now.

Again he couldn't look at her when he spoke, leading Lightning to believe he was holding something back. Not that it was much of her business, she countered herself.

"Well," she laughed, "you were drunk. I guess I shouldn't have taken it so seriously."

"Hmm." he nodded. But then. "But it wasn't a lie. You...share some similarities."

"Like?"

"Do you _have_ to pry?" he turned his head to look at her directly, his brow knitted. It wasn't often he thought of, much less spoke of his wife, but when he did it only served to upset him. Her questions were not helping. But, instead of letting his frustration show, he shrugged heavily and pushed himself out of the chair. "Perhaps it's better that I go."

Lightning lounged back on the bed, her hands folded beneath her head against the pillows. "Suit yourself." she had no intention of apologizing for her curiosity, though a small part of her knew she should.

Han reached the door, jerking it open in a fashion that gave away his disturbance. It felt like being rubbed the wrong way, and he didn't like it. But just as he made to step into the hallway, he found the solid expanse of a furry Leonin chest blocking his path.

"_Ae mot_, so here you are?" the cat said curiously. "You look upset."

"It's nothing, Shilo."

"Oh?" he peered over the top of Han's head, seeing Lightning on the bed looking at them. "Did you two fight again?"

"No," Han protested.

"You had best apologize." Shilo grumbled.

"For what?" his expression changed into something resembling dejected confusion.

"With your temperament, it could have been anything." the lion rolled his amber eyes. "Now say you're sorry."

"I didn't do anything!" Han protested.

He scowled at the human, his muzzle furrowed and his eyes narrow. He knew Han hadn't done anything wrong, he had been listening without really meaning to. No really. Regardless, Han was innocent, and Shilo knew it, but that didn't mean he couldn't tug his friend around a bit. It was too perfect to pass up.

With a scowl Teh'Han turned, his brow low over his eyes as he looked back at her and said "sorry," in the most unconvincing tone possible. When turned to leave again he had expected the Leonin to let him pass.

He didn't.

"Like you mean it."

"_Teh'khet Y'Oae_!" Han swore, his face twisted to a frustrated sort of anger.

Shilo grabbed his shoulders and forced him to face Lightning once more, holding him there for a moment before giving him a friendly shove. He pointed with one claw, "_Yen rhet_!"

The two stubborn males glared at each other, posturing as they had only a few occasions before. Han had a feeling his friend wasn't about to relent, but he had to test him anyhow. You don't just back down, you stand defiant for as long as you're able. It was their way.

Still, he submitted all the same and with a heavy shrug. With his feet dragging he approached the bed, dropping to his knees. The strange behavior beckoned her curiosity, encouraging Lightning to sit up from her lounging position and look at him. She was puzzled, unsure of what to think or say.

Han reached up, taking one of her hands in his and pressing it just so that her knuckles would rest against his forehead. She tensed.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry." he said. It was the Kushtan way. Submit yourself to any chastisement you're due.

"Is this some Pulsian thing?"

He cringed silently at her tone of voice, how it seemed repulsed. "You going to punish me, or not?"

"What? No, you didn't-,"

"Very well. _Oae'tasa han waen Y'Oaes tiem_." then her pressed her knuckles against his lips, gave them a subtle kiss, and then left the room, shoving passed the lion as quickly as he could. He was going to get by, all be damned, even if he hand to rip open a new passage through the wall. He wouldn't stand for the two of them to see how red his face had suddenly become.

Light sat there a moment, fuddled. For what seemed to be a very long moment, she just stared at her hand, maybe expecting for some sort of lesion or sore to appear where his soft lips had been. When did her heartbeat get so fast, or her cheeks so warm?

"What," at first the words wouldn't form. Shilo watched her try and found himself amused at her bewilderment.

"I thought it was fairly clear." Shilo crossed his arms, his massive, furry body leaning against the doorway.

"I know," she shook her head as if to clear it. "But what did he say?"

" 'I am grateful for your mercy'; roughly."

"What is it directly?" she dared to ask, her curiosity getting the better of her. That was starting to become a habit she didn't approve of.

"Plainly?" the lion smiled in a way only a cat could. " 'I am blessed by your love.'"

The heat in her surged. "What was he apologizing for?"

"I don't know." he replied honestly, and then laughed as he stepped out of the room. Shilo pulled the door shut after himself, the latch clicking quietly.

Lightning stared at the door for a time, her brow tightened in the middle. She had the distinct feeling that somehow, someway, the lion was playing her. Or worse, playing Han. Was there even the slimmest chance in hell that Shilo was trying to...no way.

Even if she could deny that, she couldn't deny how she was feeling, so she chose to ignore it instead. She went back to her gunblade, starting again in disassembling it. Anything to make her unaware of the speedy pitter-patter in her chest.

Hope sat in the floor of his room, unable to make it to the chair beside the hearth or the bed before his knees simply couldn't take his own weight. His hands clenched in his hair, pulling, his entire body shuddering as he gasped for breath. He hung his torso between his knees and tears pecked at the wooden floor as they twisted out of his screwed shut eyes.

His insides were rattling, heated, so tight it hurt. He was just so furious. It grew and grew, starting at the conservatory and surfacing at last behind closed doors. Like an egregious sore. For the entire afternoon he sat this way, in the middle of the floor, hunched over, sobbing. Hope hadn't felt emotion like this since...since he was a younger man with a silent vendetta against the one he blamed for his mother's death. But even that hadn't been this great, this raw.

Then, he had wanted to act and never found the courage. Now, he had all the strength he needed but knew it would do more harm than good. Going after her now would prove a wasted effort. But he struggled with that, not wanting to believe it. He felt as though he could take on the world, tear down a mountain if it meant getting Vanille away from that..._man_.

But he could do nothing. Not yet.

And that clawed at his insides, acid and razors in his core.

Eventually he shoved it down, forced it back that he might calm himself. He was tired of it for now. Hope crawled up onto the bed, still sagging as he sat on the edge. He wiped his eyes, sniffling. Fingers burrowing into his hair, Hope fell onto his back, bouncing slightly on the mattress as he went still. Staring at the ceiling he took a breath, slowly exhaling.

For a time he did this, in and out, letting go just enough. Letting the anger seep out of him. When it felt as though it had passed far enough along, he stood. Unsteady at first. He left his room to find noise coming from downstairs, the bar now starting to fill as the day was ending. For a moment he stood still, not sure what to do. Stay in his room to wallow, or...

"Hey, you all right, kid?"

He turned his head slowly, delayed, Hope's weary eyes falling on Fang who stood just outside of her own room.

"Fine. Just...I'm tired." he fibbed, but you wouldn't think it if you saw him.

"That's okay." she gave him a gentle, understanding smile. "But we're having a family meeting, come on in."

Hope found his feet still stubborn as he went the short distance down, ducking into the room as the door closed behind him. They were all here now. All seven of them. He was a little surprised to see Bard, thinking he was just far too busy. But there he was, albeit somewhat over dressed. A fancy black waistcoat with silver buttons and a white shirt on loan from the conservatory. The satyr would be due back there soon, you could tell by the way he almost nervously bounced his knee as he stood against the wall.

"That's everyone." Fang gently announced, for lack of a better word.

Lightning nodded from her place in the chair beside the mantle. "So...now we know for certain where she is. Kalitas house." and she sighed this, as if it couldn't be any worse.

"How are we going to get inside?" Sazh straightened as he sat on the end of the bed.

"Well, actually, that's the easy part. You got invited to his party, right?" Light lifted her eyes to him.

"Don't you mean we?"

"I was answering him, but I'm convinced he was looking at and talking to you."

"Okay, let's say I go...what am I going to say if he asks about you?"

"Tell him I had other plans."

"What about the rest of us, then?" Fang asked. Her expression was darkened with the furrow of her brow, severe. "I'll be damned if I go to some party and stand around with my thumb up my rump."

"I was getting to that." Light assured her. "I spoke to Raul earlier this afternoon about the same thing, about how we could sneak in if necessary. He's been to the manor before, knows it pretty well. There's a back door."

"We'll never get in there unnoticed." Han grumbled from the corner, his pipe between his teeth.

"Not as we are, no."

"What ya meanin' by that?" one of Bard's bushy eyebrows lifted.

"Raul's making arrangements for disguises," and as she thought about it she became worried as the vampire didn't divulge the nature of said disguises.

"So what's the plan, exactly?" Shilo wondered.

"For starters, we're going to separate into groups. One group goes to this party. Sazh, that'll be you. Bard's going with Raul and Francisco as part of the entertainment to back you up."

Sazh nodded quietly, taking the instruction as it was seeing as he had no better alternative. Bard swallowed, his Adam's apple dipping sharply. His leg bounced faster.

"I'm going for the manor. Who's with me?" Light scanned the room, looking for a show of hands.

"I'm going." Fang was the first.

"And I." The Leonin raised his paw. He saw the human's surprised and thought to explain himself. "If there is need for a hasty retreat, I am the fastest of you all. I can get the girl to safety."

Lightning nodded in agreement. "Anyone else?"

"I will." Hope found the strength to offer.

"No." she said immediately. "I've got a job for you already. You can pilot the airship, can't you?"

At first he was angry, not wanting to hear her reject him, but then understood. "Yeah, I can. Enough anyway." He'd built one from the ground up while studying engineering on Cocoon.

"Then that's where you're going to be. You're not expected to be anywhere else, so it's the best place for you."

He didn't argue. She was right.

"So," Sazh started after a moment. "Let's say everything actually goes according to plan...how are we supposed to know when it's time to split?"

Light sighed again, her eyes averted. "That's the only thing I'm still thinking about. Maybe Raul can tell me more about the layout of the manor...maybe then I'll have something. Still, in any case, we need to get this together by the end of this week."

"No sweat." Fang sniffed confidently, her chin tipped up and a smile feinting on her mouth.

Bard embraced himself, rubbing his arms roughly with his hands. "Easy enough for you teh say. But," he took a breath and let it out. "On that note, I'm afraid, I have to be off." and he looked to Lightning as if looking for approval.

"That's all right. I was about to finish this up. We'll be doing this again once I have more information."

"Oh aye." he nodded, easing onto his feet and making a quick exit. Just as he started out of the room, the door still open, Fang followed him, not bothering to excuse herself.

"Nanny," she called to him.

"Eh?" he answered, as much as he hated the nick-name. In fact, he almost laughed.

"You don't have to do this." she said, her expression having softened from the grim setting it was in the room. "I know you're scared, but you don't have to."

Bard half turned, smiling, sympathetic. "It's all right. Yeh see, I ken this is important to you. And, aye, I'm scared down to my knobby knees, but you know what? Somehow, in spite of all that, what's important to you somehow started bein' important to me. Dinnae ask me how."

The explanation surprised her, you could see it on her face. In the wideness of her ferine blue eyes.

"So maybe I dinnae have to," he shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. But I want to."

It touched her heart in a way that she wasn't accustomed to. Such kindness. "Thank you."

"No need. Although, I do wish you were comin' tonight."

Fang scratched the back of her head, averting her eyes. "I know. Sorry, but if I were to see that...him, I'd probably kill him on sight. That wouldn't do anyone any good."

"Oh aye, cannae have that. Well, cannae blame a goat for trying. I'll be seein' yeh tonight, then?"

"Sure." and she watched him go, still feeling so humbled by his selflessness.

Just as she turned she heard the footsteps behind her, seeing Hope skulking back towards his room. Without a word she went after him, catching him gently by the shoulder before he could seclude himself once more. He turned his head, revealing a most pitiful seeming expression.

"You want to talk about it?" Fang offered. She could tell something heavy was hanging on him, and had a good feeling what it was.

"I don't think you want to hear it." he shook his head, looking away. Somehow he knew, if Fang knew what he had seen, it would break her heart too.

"Maybe I don't," she nodded, keeping a hand on him. "But that doesn't mean I shouldn't. Come on, let's get a couple of drinks in you and see where it goes, eh?"

He didn't fight it. Maybe some liquid courage was just what the doctor ordered. If nothing else, it might help him get to sleep. Something he was currently feeling a bit desperate for, but knew he wouldn't get it if he tried in his current mood.

Back inside, Sazh and Shilo excused themselves as well, leaving Light and Han together in the room. Silence prevailed between them for the longest time, tension thickening the air.

Lightning had given him no task, assigned him no role in the upcoming rescue. At first it bothered him, but he quickly turned the feeling aside with his better sense. Still he felt the need to ask.

"What would you have me do?"

Lightning thought about the question a moment before answering him plainly; "I don't know if I can count on you for anything."

"No. I suppose you don't. I said so myself, after all. Perhaps," he puffed his pipe a moment, the smoke coming out of his nose when he continued. "I'll take the boy on Valkyrie to the ship. I'll be out of your way."

Part of her wanted to convince him that he wouldn't be in the way, maybe almost comfort and encourage him, but she couldn't find any truth in that.

_Though I would fear for you._ Han found himself thinking the sentiment, his heart curious as to why. He would fear for Shilo as well, and Fang as they were like his siblings. But when did he suddenly have room in his stiffened, frigid heart for fear for her? Why did he suddenly have the means to give a shit about what happened to the woman who kicked in his door and punched him in the face? He could not explain it.

"Maybe that would be best." she said after a moment. "Hope might need the help." That is, if he was good for any.

"Whatever you decide." he tapped out his pipe into the hearth. He started for the door, seeing no further reason to linger.

"Would you rather come with us?" Light couldn't tell even herself why she suddenly asked him that.

Han paused, laughing. A breathy noise. "I would rather be home, tending my garden. Still," he turned to face her, his expression seeming a little on the hopeless side. "If you ask me to go, I'll go, if you bid me stay, I'll stay. It's your choice. I trust you to make the best one."

Before she could even give the admission more than half a thought he was gone, and now she was alone.

_Stay...go...was he even talking about the plan?_

Or had he been asking a completely unrelated, yet very personal question?

Lightning would ponder it for a long while, wringing her hands and mindful of the tiny nicks on her fingers.

_(-)_

Nightfall cloaked the city, unofficially ending the observance of Aela the Joyous and ringing in Drana the Merry. All of the bars opened, and would be all night long until the first light of dawn. Those who weren't involved with that sort, were prettying themselves up for the other major event. The opera was due to begin any minute, and many a noble was delighted to know it would be Maestro Sinclaire's return to the stage. The crowd was enormous, so massive that even performers were having trouble getting into the opera house on Saints Plaza.

The grand stage was hollow, an even greater space beneath it that served as a common area for both storage and for the musicians to make any last minute preparations. This is where Bard found himself now, minutes away from the raising of the curtain. The other performers were hurrying about, instruments in hand and looking for other members of their section. The choir was already starting basic warming up exorcises to loosen their throats, and the strings had all huddled together as if to pray. It was so busy, and the tension was thick enough to taste, almost see.

Maestro Sinclaire stalked amongst them, quiet, glaring, like an angry shade. She had nothing to say to most of them, not even a nod if their gazes met. She didn't have to say anything as everything was to her expectations. Expectations, though high, that everyone was already well aware of.

Bard was humming to himself, recalling his parts in his head when he felt Sabine's cold shadow on him. He twisted his head, a brow lifted until he was certain it was her, and then fully turned and dipped his chin in a slow nod of respect.

Sabine glared at him through half-lidded eyes, though still severely by any standards. The emeralds flickered in candlelight, allowing him to see her expression very well. Cool, collected, unreadable, her glasses perched on the bridge of her pointed nose like a vulture. Even when he had raised his head, he had trouble looking at her directly.

"Are you nervous?" more a question out of curiosity than care.

"Aye, ma'am, a wee bit."

One brow arched. "I am to assume that means a small amount."

"Aye, it does."

She nodded, a brief motion he barely saw. "I suppose it is only natural. Everyone who's anyone will be watching."

Bard swallowed.

"All the nobles from all of the districts, the Nocturnus, the magistrate and his family...the pressure must be enormous." and her tone was of almost bitter sarcasm and not giving one rat's ass.

"I'll manage."

"Yes." she replied. "You will. I refuse to tolerate any embarrassment from you or anyone else tonight."

"Aye, you've made that perfectly clear." he almost shrugged, remembering the constant brow beatings she would slap them with during rehearsal.

"Indeed." she took a breath, as if to still the rising fury over his delivery. Without anything else to tell him, she turned and started away from him.

Bard felt her leave him, her presence dissipating like a heavy fog. It left him shuddering. Sweet beard on Ares' chin, if that woman wasn't winter incarnate. To think he had come all this way to meet her, only to find out she's the most righteous bitch of the highest order ever to trod on Gran Pulse's pristine visage.

No, he realized after moment. He hadn't really come just for her. He came for his old teacher's sake, because he loved music. Because he had nothing, could do nothing else. To hell with the maestro, he was doing it for the love of the tunes.

The chiming of tiny bells beneath the stage signaled the time. The performers started to flood out of the chamber and up to the stage. All in attendance on the other side of the curtain had found their seats from the front row to the balconies some ten, fifteen feet up. A low rumble of voices echoed throughout the massive room with the domed ceiling.

Just as it had beneath the stage, a bell chimed, and all noise trickled into complete silence. Just in front of the stage, at the cusp of the floor's lowest point, was the conductor's pulpit. This is where Sabine first appeared. A short flight of stairs came up from the hollow chamber below, allowing the maestro to take her place without having to walk down the isles. The audience stood and began to applaud at the first glimpse of her. Some of them gasping in surprise at her appearance.

It wasn't the sleek black dress that graced the floor and hung from her shoulders in such a way that it would just cover her breasts. It wasn't even the brilliant green sari she had twined about her arms like a shawl. It was the tattoos, something no one had seen other than the magistrate. The darkened serpents circled her arms and she refused to hide them. They were a part of her, of who she was. And if the people of Arash loved her, adored her as they appeared to show with their applause, they would accept it. If not, then to hell with the lot of them.

Sabine stepped to the podium, a new baton and the leather bound score in her hands. She laid them out, the score open, but she would yet allow for the curtain to be pulled away. She turned to face the audience.

"Nobles, commonfolk, lord magistrate, honorable Bloodchiefs," she began, her voice solid and echoing, "welcome. I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to all of you for gracing me with your presence. Ten years ago I departed from our fine city in order to find something. At that time I wasn't sure what I was searching for, only that I would know when I had discovered it. For a decade I wandered the wastes of the Sepulcher and other distant lands with the native peoples, who are my kin, in search of that something. And for many of those years, I was forlorn at my lack of progress.

"However I stand before you today, not forlorn, but very proud. I realized, as my time away drew to an end, that I had indeed found what I was looking for. Little by little, small discoveries over a day to day course through a decade, I had found that something. It came to me in the dawns over the desert, the campfires under a moonless sky, the stories of the elders...it came to me in music.

Her tone had changed from very casual, almost bored, to much more intimate and contemplative. As if recalling a pleasant memory.

"With these people, my kin, I found a part of myself to treasure. A treasure which I simply cannot horde. So now, without further delay, I wish to share such great wealth with you." and then she took a bow, bending sharp at the waist before straightening and turning on her heel to finally take her place. She gestured with one hand to someone unseen, who pulled the long cord with help of another to raise the imposing red velvet curtain, and revealing the near one hundred musicians and choir members waiting on the stage.

Bard blinked as light poured through the steadily drawn curtain, feeling his stomach sink as his eyes focused again and fell on the many scores of people that had come. What he would've give to see a familiar face. Perhaps that would help him muster up just a bit more courage. No such luck for Nanny.

Before he felt ready, Bard saw Sabine raise her hands. He put his violin under his chin out of sheer reflex built up after half a week of rehearsal.

If I had to put it in words, the magnitude of it all, I would refuse. There simply aren't words for it, none that I possess. It was unlike anything Arash had ever heard before, some dared to even think it greater than anything Maestro Avon had ever produced. Which, mind you, was like saying the sky was green or that Gran Pulse was flat. For the next two hours, all in attendance were bombarded with sounds and arrangements that could only be described as divine.

It went without a hitch, much to the relief of the orchestra members. Perhaps tonight would go without the usual scolding from the maestro. That is, unless, the goat messed up in the home stretch.

At the end of the opera, as a sort of closing movement, was a hymn. It was put there to sort of balance out the dynamic, high energy that was sustained throughout the entire performance. At least that's how Sabine explained it to them. No matter the reason, a part of Bard was convinced she did it just to burden him. Maybe it was payback for the gong...

She demanded that he sing it. Once she had discovered that he was an incredibly able tenor, there was no question, no argument about it. He would do it, no chance to refuse, and he would do it alone. As the music died into a gentle hush, the satyr could feel the nerves creeping through him. He thought to bounce his leg as usual, but knew his hoof would knock the fine hardwood of the stage and tweak Sabine's nippies. No doubt.

When she bade him with a slight gesture of her hand, Bard stood up. Quietly he allowed his violin to rest in his chair as he stepped out from between the other musicians around him. With his steps echoing throughout the concert hall he took center stage, inches from the edge of it and just in front of Maestro Sinclaire. He could feel her eyes on him, felt himself shiver.

The music started anew just behind him, gentle, soothing. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the conductor, watching her hands as they slowly raised, and her mouth quietly forming the first word in the lyric that he might have a guide. Then, just as her hands began to drop to account for the first beat, he took a breath.

Sabine had found the satyr's voice very peculiar when she first met him, but once she heard him sing, it touched her. She had just happened to hear him humming his part in passing and stopped, forcing him to do so out loud that she might hear him properly. There was a natural vibrato to it that captured her attention, and a quality that almost stopped her breath. It was threatening to do just that now as she listened to the hymn as it eased from his mouth; it had all the crooning sustain and endless gratitude of an exaltation to a merciful saint, as well as the weeping plea of a sinner in agony.

Before Bard knew it, it was finished, the music behind him slowly dying and the echoes stilling. And that concluded the performance.

The hall was quiet for a terribly long time, though it was only a few brief seconds. Then the audience stood, clapping and cheering. Sabine turned in the pulpit to face them, tears in her eyes and with her face reddened from the gladly given sacrifice the performance had taken on her. She had bared her soul to the entire city, and they had more than accepted it. They worshiped it.

It wasn't long after the conclusion that the magistrate appeared, having come down from his balcony seat with his brother and sister-in-law. He held out his arms to the maestro, embracing her closely, almost too close for public decency, before taking her hand and leading her up onto the stage with the other performers. They had all gathered near the edge of the stage in a large mass of black and white, vampires and humans, and took a single bow of appreciation.

Sabine had taken the performance to be a grand success, as did the magistrate. With that being ascertained, she dismissed the orchestra and retired to her apartment at the conservatory. Once the oil lamps were lit she could see the common area simply overrun with bouquets of flowers. From admirers no doubt. It wasn't something new, but it was always appreciated. The coffee table between the sofa and chair was particularly congested with all sorts of petal finery. But one stood out. A single rose, so red it was nearly black, lay only half-bloomed on the side table. Her eyes fell on it almost immediately, once her mortal eyes had adjusted to the light. She knew who sent it, didn't have to guess. Although, with that considered, he likely hadn't sent it at all. Most likely he brought it himself.

And he was still here.

Before his chilled, strong arms swept around her waist she could feel the cool weight of his presence. She gave into him, drew back against him and accepted the press of kisses on her throat.

"My lord," she whispered, one of her hands resting over his, the other reaching to twine in his hair.

"My dearest lady," Tezzim growled, his chest rumbling. "I dare say you were stunning this evening."

"Thank you." she accepted the whispered accolade, knowing well that she deserved it.

"John would have been pleased."

"I believe so. But what of you?"

Tezzim smiled against her shoulder, taking in her scent. "So very proud. And the goat hadn't done so terrible either."

Sabine scowled. "Let us not talk of him, please."

"Of course, my love, forgive me." he apologized, his hands wandering upward from her hips to her breasts. "And you look positively divine. Good enough to eat."

She laughed a little, a genuine smile gracing her thin mouth. "Charmer."

He only agreed with a soft growl, finding the large button that held the dress in place. "It was awfully brave of you to show yourself this way."

"I know." she straightened her arms, allowing the sari to fall, but not to the floor. "All of them needed to see what I really am."

"And it is beautiful." he really did like it. Any shade of green was so befitting on her, and silk was his utmost favorite material. Combining the two was like heaven. He let the garment slide across his fingers as she set it on the empty arm of the sofa. "I would see you wear it for our wedding."

"Would you?" Sabine allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder as the front of her dress parted, his claws teasing across her now bared bosom. "My lord, you honor me."

"And I will do much more." he promised.

"When, my lord, when?" she was begging now, the dress having been pulled down to her waist.

"Soon." he promised with a breathy admission. "Very soon."

"_When_?" she gripped at him desperately, grabbing his wrists so he could not move them.

"Let me love you first," was his condition. "Let me pleasure you, and then I will tell."

She groaned in protest, scowling as he reached to remove her glasses. He set the fragile lenses aside, atop the partly folded sari, and then slowly, so slowly, pulled the dress down her legs and to the floor. Sabine continued to glare at him as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. The only suitable place for such activities.

It turned out to be one of their more vigorous sessions. Fresh claw marks were added to those already adorning the bed posts, and the sheets were ripped from tightly gripped fists pulling. Pillows were tossed to the floor in a flurry of movement. Keening cries cut the air as their bodies collided, hips crashing together and their backs bowing. A crescendo of carnal delight.

Dwindling moonlight still crept through the windows as they lay together afterward, uncovered atop the bed, his throbbing member still buried deep inside her. His form dwarfed hers, curled along her back with arms twisted around her, like the coils of a great serpent. His cool skin was warmed by hers, leaving his body to tingle from head to toe. Sabine stroked stray locks of his raven hair between two fingers, soothed by the silken texture. Her emerald eyes were fixed on the waning moon.

"When, my love?" she asked again, a quiet whisper in the darkness.

Tezzim pressed his face into the curve of the back of her neck, kissing. "The last night of the festival."

At last. Now she had his word.

"At midnight, come to me at my brother's villa. Only then will I give you what we both desire."

Tezzim closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander forward in time, to when he would fulfill his promise. He could see her there before him, her neck bared, willing, nay, _begging_ for his lethal kiss. He would enjoy her one last time, indulge in her intimate warmth once more, and then he would take her in one fierce clench of his jaws, feeding on her precious life until there was but drops left. Then he would open a vein of his own and allow her the first of many sips of blood. For a short while after she would sleep, deep, her body growing cold.

"And I would have you wear that sari," he purred. "I do adore it."

He imagined her naked body swaddled in the silken garment as she lay still in his bed. He would watch her until the change had taken its full hold. And his face would be the first she saw once she awoke. A new creature.

"Once you have acclimated to your...condition, I will announce our engagement. Then, as soon as our affairs are in order, we will be wed."

"Do you promise, Tezzim?"

"I do." He nodded, his forehead nuzzling her neck. "And I will give you a mark for my words, soon to be redeemed."

And he bit her.

Sabine took a sharp breath, her mouth open in a silent cry, her body clenching tightly in his arms, around his newly hardened cock. He wanted so terribly to feed on her now, but took only the smallest of mouthfuls, enough to sate his quiet craving. He laved the wound with his tongue, a chilled touch that sent her into a fit of shudders. Sabine grabbed whatever part of him she could reach to steel herself, feeling that she would surely rattle to pieces if she didn't.

"Will that satisfy you until then, my lady?"

"_Yes_," she breathed, desperate for air. "My lord, I love you so,"

"And I you, dearest heart."

_(-)_

Bard returned to the inn to find it still very busy, the bar totally full of drunk and yet-to-be drunk patrons. Still, he was happy to be back and in his own clothes. He first went up to his room, stashing away his violin. Someone was playing downstairs, so he didn't think he would need it. When he came back down it sounded as if a new song had just begun. The musician, he would discover later, was one of Saint Drana's offspring. One of the three who chose to forsake the brewing business for music.

_Listen to my cheery tale,_

_ Of Drunken Drana, mother of ale._

_ It's said the Fal'Cie gave her a clue_

_ on how to make a heavenly brew._

_ She started to tinker and fiddle and test_

_ to find a concoction that she could ingest._

_ Her tastes did not agree to wheat, and honey, so sad,_

_ she found it too sweet._

_ But when to barely she stumbled upon,_

_ she drafted our beer and we sing her this song._

_ Drunken Drana, Queen of the brew,_

_ mother to me and hero to you,_

_ and when we're all smashed, what else can we do?_

_ But cry 'Hail to Drana, Queen of the Brew!'_

The song was catchy enough, though a little repetitive for the satyr's taste. He descended the stairs, stopping a moment to check in with Raul behind the bar. The vampire seemed happy to see him, even asked how the opera went. But then it was right back to filling glasses and cleaning used steins once he had given his answers. Bard considered for a minute simply going to bed, feeling tired enough to do so. Not much point in staying awake without anything to do...

But as he turned he happened to spot a bit of blue in the back bend of the room. Fang was sitting alone at a table nearly hidden by the horde of bodies that populated the bar. He couldn't rightly tell from this distance, but she didn't appear very happy. He made his way over, feeling his resolve waver slightly when he saw the near empty bottle by her elbow, and how her head was propped up by her hand.

"Miss Fang?"

She opened one eye that fell on him directly. Without saying anything she stretched slowly, grumbling before settling into a hunched position over the table. "Hey, nanny, have a seat. How'd you do tonight?"

He couldn't miss how some of her words slurred together as he eased into the chair in front of her. Bard glanced at the bottle, curious of what had been in it. It didn't appear to be "bat shit" but it was almost as bad. Just take my word for it.

"Oh I did just fine." he replied. "What are yeh doin' here all by yourself, Miss Fang?"

"Hope was here," she cleared her throat, "then he went off to bed. Lightweight."

Bard watched her finish off the last dregs at the bottom of the bottle, hating the idea that she had drank the entire thing by herself.

"I'd offer you a shot, but I do believe it's all gone," and she laughed a little, watching as the tiniest of tiny drops fell out of the up-ended bottle. "Maybe it's best, though, talkin' to me wasn't doing the poor boy any good anyhow."

The satyr's brow furrowed as she crossed her arms atop the table and slumped to rest her forehead on them. Seeing her like this was hurting him somehow. He had grown so accustomed to the devil-may-care, nothing could stop her attitude, the never-say-die...where had it gone? What had done away with it to leave her in such a state?

"I think he's in love with her."

"Eh? Wassat?"

"I think Hope's in love with her." she grumbled again, straightening to hold her head again. Her wild blue eyes were now dimmed with puffy redness.

"Do yeh now? How so?"

"I just know." Fang massage her forehead, her eyes closed as if they hurt. No doubt they did. "Maybe that's good too...gods' know she doesn't need me."

"What's that now?" he sounded surprised she would say such a thing. His mouth gaped, only worsening when a waitress passed with a tray, dropping off a fresh bottle and taking the spent one away. He would've told the girl no, but just didn't have the capacity at that very second. "How can yeh say that?"

"It's easy." Fang popped the cork and took one large gulp, her breath escaping as a tight hiss at the burn. "I let her down, it's my fault she's in this mess. Some sister I am..."

"Come now," he almost scolded. "You know that innae true."

"The hell it _innae_. We're here, aren't we?" Fang snapped, her brow furrowed in growing anger. Mostly at herself. "I failed. I screwed up...she's better off without me."

Bard watched her take another drink, one certainly too many. He reached for the bottle. "Maybe if we got this damnable bottle out of yeh face,"

She swatted his hand away. "Don't even try it. I'll lay you out faster than you can bleat."

"Let's be reasonable," he defended, his hands returning close to him. "You sound like yeh've already given up."

"No, no," she shook her head. "I hate myself enough without doing that. But...she's gotta hate me...leaving her like I did."

"You dinnae leave her, Miss Fang."

"I left her alone...left her with these people...monsters...Christ." and she took another drag from the bottle, facing the harsh burn, taking it in penance. "She'll never forgive me...I'll be surprised if she'll ever even look at me again."

Bard didn't know what else he could say, if there was anything. She was just so sad, so consumed with guilt. What on earth could _he_ do?

"Miss Fang...mayhaps yeh should be gettin' on to bed." he said finally.

"Nah, I'm not tired."

"Maybe not, but that dinnae means yeh should still be here." he reached for the bottle again, expecting her hands to smack at his. When it did, it didn't stop him. He managed his hand to fist around the neck of it and start to lift it away. She snatched his wrist and glared at him.

"You dinnae wanna do that, nanny." she mocked him.

"Aye, I do." he returned, stalwart. "Yeh've had too much."

"The hell I have! Let go!"

"I won't!" and he jerked it free from her liquor softened grip. He then stood away from the table, meaning to take the stuff back to the bar and leave it there.

"Damn stubborn goat," Fang growled, attempting to stand for the first time in several hours. "Get back here,"

Needless to say she didn't make it very far. She tripped on her own two feet, hitting the floor in such a way that her head bounced on the wood. Bard immediately turned at the sound, setting the bottle down on the nearest table to change his direction. He hurriedly went to her, sliding on his knees across the floor to settle at her side.

"Are yeh all right?"

"Get away from me." she croaked, her throat tight. Tears rolled down her cheeks now, just visible in the bar's smoky air.

"I dinnae think I can do that. Come along now, let's get yeh off your feet."

She kept swearing at him and resisting, even as he pulled her up and helped her across the room and up the stairs. He had to drag her part of the way, at some point where she simply refused to walk and started sobbing unabashedly as her head hung. Bard didn't mind it. This wasn't a chore, it was a kind gesture.

When they reached her room, stepped inside, she stood up. She propped herself against the wall with her arm, fighting to raise her head that she might look at him. Her expression was one of fierce loathing, but of whom was the only question. He had half expected her to say something, swear at him again or scold him for his helping hand.

Instead she slapped him across the face.

It wasn't the most egregious blow he'd ever felt, but it stung. The drunken stupor she'd allowed herself to stagger into had robbed her of most of her strength. Plus, somehow he knew she wasn't really mad at him.

Fang scowled hard at him for several seconds more, just until she couldn't hold it in anymore and openly wept, her head falling as low as gravity would force it. When she looked on the verge of falling, Bard held out his arms to catch her. With only a little more effort he helped her to bed, kneeling in front of her as she sat there to remove her shoes. When he finished she fell against him, arms around him to steady herself as she cried into his shoulder.

He accepted it without complaint. She needed it, and he was here. How could he refuse?

"It'll be all right." he whispered, one of his hands stroking her back, the other at the back of her head. "We'll get her back."

It didn't help, but he wasn't expecting it to. Fang needed to get it out, not shove it down.

"We'll get her back, and she won't love you any less. I promise."

And he kissed the top of her head, staying with her even after she fell asleep.

Author's Note: Surprise, extra long chapter, hurray. I had to force this a bit, though I think I made it through all right. To get a better feel of what Sabine's composition sounded like, I would look up "Two Steps from Hell", a great orchestral band. Particularly their pieces "Spirit of Champions" and "United we Stand, Divided we Fall". Anyway, I think in the next chapter or the one after that, the team will actually going on the offensive to rescue Vanille, so be on the look out! And in case you're curious, I just wanted a little Bang (Bard/Fang) fluff in there. It seemed right. Got any other questions? Feel free to ask.


	29. Chapter XXVIII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

"Tell me."

Dash was silent to the millionth-time repeated request of his charge. All he wanted to do right now was read his book.

"Tell me."

He hoped if he was quiet, held off for just a bit longer, Helm would give up and shut up.

"Tell me."

Helm sat just beside him on the bed. Perfect slapping distance.

"Tell me."

Dash snapped his head to look at him with such irritated fury, the slits of his eyes near invisible. "Would you shut your yap! I'm not telling you squat, so stop asking!"

Helm cringed, recoiling, but hiding a amused smirk behind his clawed hand. "Can I guess?"

"Can I put my boot in your ass?"

Helm actually thought about it a moment. "Do a man a favor and lube it up with lard first."

"For saint's sake!" Dash slapped his book closed. "Do you not have anything else better to occupy yourself with?"

"No. I was actually having a bit of fun just sittin' here...pesterin' ya."

"Go pester someone else!"

"But...you're the only person I can pester without getting my teeth kicked in." his tone was almost child-like, pitiful.

"That fact can be rectified." Dash's voice had quieted, flattened, and become lethally serious.

"Come on, old man. Can't I have a hint?" he nigh on begged. "Can I guess?"

"Go suck your thumb, why don't you!" Dash stood, unable to take it any longer. He tossed the book on the bed, hobbling across the room towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Helm was trying his damnedest not laugh.

"Out, before I stake you myself."

"Come on, I'm not all that bad, am I?"

"Bad enough to make me want to gamble." Dash admitted, a vice he had always cringed away from before.

"Oh? Yes, that's right, the races are this afternoon. Care if I join you?"

"Yes!" and then Dash was gone, having slammed the door upon his exit.

_(-)_

Fang woke in stages, the onset of a mild hangover being among the first sensation to creep back to her. There was a tightness in her hips hinting that she had slept in a funny position, twisted up and tangled in the sheets. She didn't want to wake up yet. She wasn't ready to face the headache, the head-to-toe stiffness, and she certainly didn't want to face the guy who bashed her face in with a chair...or did she dream that?

Fang pulled her forearm across her head after turning to lay flat on her back, groaning as she forced herself into awareness. She only bothered to open her eyes when she realized that something was smelling very good. It was warm, inviting.

Bard turned his head, his amber eyes falling on hers as he sat at the foot of the bed. He had a cup of something in his hand.

"Wassat," she mumbled sleepily.

"Coffee. Care for a swig?"

Fang didn't answer, but held out her other hand as if to answer.

"Ah-ah, sit up or you'll choke."

"Damn nanny." she twisted over onto her stomach in protest, but her defiance didn't last. It smelled too damn good. With another grumbled she sat up, one hand raking her scalp and the other reaching for the cup. "Why does my face hurt?" she needed to know if she did indeed dream that.

"I'm afraid yeh took a nasty spill last night."

"Oh, yeah." now she remembered. She had been blubbering like a fool, crying and carrying on, and tripped over herself. "Sorry you had to see that."

"It's nothin'." he dismissed. "I know you're not exactly feelin' at your best here recently."

"Thanks for understanding." she took a cautionary sip, her eyes closing slowly with a comforted sigh as the warm brew eased down her scratchy throat. "I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

"Well," he tapped his chin, feigning reminiscence.

Fang braced herself.

"Yeh called me baby, shoved your tongue in my mouth and humped me 'til midnight...if'n yeh can call that stupid."

Fang almost spat out the small mouthful of coffee she had taken in. She put her hand over mouth, swallowing before she obeyed the initial instinct to laugh. "Gods, tell me you're kidding?"

"Of course I am," he confessed as if she didn't need to ask such a question. "Heavens, woman, I ken you had a wee bit more confidence in me."

"So your saying you would've stopped me if I tried?"

He was quiet, a gentle redness in his cheeks. "You was drunk, Miss Fang. It wouldn't have been right."

"That's not what I asked." she took another sip, her eyes forward.

He was quiet again, the redness growing. "I...I wasn't about teh let yeh sully yourself so, Miss Fang."

She laughed again, softly this time. Her eyes slid to settle on him and she held her smile. "You're all right, Bard."

"Oh, why thank yeh." he let out a breath as if relieved, the blush easing away from his cheeks. "Um, mayhaps yeh be wantin' more of that coffee?"

"Oh aye," she nodded, handing him the empty cup. "Gimme a chance to make myself decent."

"You're gonna need more time then?"

"Shush."

And the satyr snickered as he eased out into the hallway. When he came back he found her fully clothed and running her fingers through her hair to undo any knots. It was actually kind of fascinating for him to realize she didn't have to do anything to that wild mane of hers to get it to sit that way. When she was aware of him he handed one of the cups to her. He had brought two back with him, still wanting one himself.

"Anything interesting gone on yet this morning?" she asked, plopping down on the bed again.

"Eh, not really. Miss Lightning and the old fella stepped out an hour or so ago. Other than that it's been rather quiet."

"Wassat now? Light and Han? Where'd they go?" she seemed incredibly interested, her eyebrows near her hairline.

"I dinnae know. All I ken is that they left together."

"Oh," she started giggling low in her throat, suspiciously so. "That's too good. I knew it."

"Yeh knew what?"

"Nothing to worry about." she was still grinning like a happy cat, but didn't appear to be in a hurry to divulge anything going through her mind.

The two were silent for a time, enjoying their coffee. Bard started bouncing his leg, maybe due to how the lack of conversation made him feel a bit awkward. What was he still doing here, anyway? She was okay now. Well...at least she wasn't crying.

"Were you in here all night?"

The question startled him, coffee sloshing over the lip of his cup and onto his shirt with the sudden pause of his hand. "M-maybe."

She nodded with a smile. "You're not stalkin' me, are you?"

"I'm not what? Um...no, I dinnae think so. I just...thought yeh might've needed a wee lookin' after. I worry for you sometimes, yeh see."

She nodded again. Although she was inclined to believe it was more than just sometimes.

"Um...might I ask yeh a personal question?"

Fang lifted one eyebrow, looking at him sideways through narrowed eyes. "Maybe."

"Well, I'm just curious...from what I've seen, I've been wonderin'...you and your sister aren't blood relations, are yeh?"

"You guessed?" her expression softened.

"I'm afraid I failed teh see the family resemblance." he admitted with a sheepish laugh. "Not that it bothers me or anythin'...I was just curious."

"It's fine." she shook her head, taking a sip afterwards. "She's really my adopted sister. She was orphaned when she was...maybe two. My dad took her in."

"You grew pretty close, did yeh?"

"Very."

"What happened to her folks?"

"Some super flu." Fang's brow lowered, darkening her expression. "It just kind of snuck up on us out of nowhere...people just started dying. Took my mother."

"I'm sorry." Bard shrank a little.

"Don't be. But, my father went to check Vanille and her father, her mother had died shortly after child birth...couldn't stop the bleeding. Our families had been friends for as long as I could remember. But he found her father dead, and she was crying. Dad didn't hesitate to look after her."

"Your da really was quite the man, wasn't he?"

"No one better. He treated Vanille like she was his own blood, and so did I. But it was an easy thing to do for someone who loved us like she does. I don't think there's a bad bone in that girl's body."

"Aye." Bard sighed a little. "I ken I know now why it beats yeh up so much that she's here, then."

"I suppose you do. But that reminds me," she paused, looking at him curiously. "What are you still doing here, anyway?"

"Oh, well," he didn't expect the question, and didn't have an answer right away. "I dinnae see any really reason teh go. Besides, I'm neck deep in this as it is."

"Guess that's true. Sorry for dragging you down with us."

"Ach, no." he waved a dismissive hand. "Yeh dinnae drag me, I walked. I owed you lot anyhow."

"Still...thanks for hanging around."

"My pleasure. Although," he started, "I had been giving some thought to stayin' here. At least I did at first."

"What changed?"

"Just dinnae want to. Not my kind of place. I'm more the country lad, myself."

"Why not just go back home then?"

He finished his coffee, shrugging a little as he set the cup on the floor not too close to his feet. "To be entirely honest, I dinnae have one to go back to."

Fang looked confused as well as surprised.

"Glanwood is gone, my brothers and sisters...washed away in a flash flood some six months ago. As far as I ken, I'm the only one left from there."

Fang was speechless. What do you say to that? Although, she could relate in a way. Her birthplace was no more as well, and she was one of the last remaining from a bygone era.

"Been wanderin' quiet some time, trying to find my place, a new home...that's when I got the idea to come here, thinking maybe I would find somethin'."

"But you didn't?"

"Well, yes and no." Bard leaned back onto his hands, his eyes lowered towards the floor. "As it stands...I suppose you lot are my family now. Perhaps that's what made me ask the questions I have."

She looked into his eyes, seeing no lie, only sober reminiscence and vulnerability.

"I wanted teh know...I was hopin' there might be room for me. Even if that means swallowin' down my cowardice teh see this mess through to its end."

After a quiet, tense moment, Fang just shook her head. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Pardon? I dinnae ken what yeh mean."

"Why didn't you come right out with it from the start?"

"Oh well...I dinnae ken it was that important. I mean...there's nothin' to be done to change my situation, but all of you were tryin' so hard to change something while yeh could. It would've been rather selfish of me to try and disrupt that."

Fang found herself smiling, reaching over to muss his hair. "You're all right, Bard. For a sissy."

"I try." he laughed, the redness blooming back into his cheeks.

The two left the room together after that, going downstairs to return their cups to the bar, as well as figuring it was too late in the day to stay in bed any longer. They found Raul doing his usual morning routine of inventory and cleaning up. His partner was nowhere to be seen, which was a cause for slight alarm. Gods only knew what Francisco was up to when out of sight.

"Where did our fearless leader and the incredible sulk meander off to this morning, Raul?" Fang asked as she slid onto a stool.

"The races, actually."

"Come again?"

"Oh yes, every year during the festival. Today we're observing Mirri the Steward and Vasgoth the Fierce."

"Care to explain?" She lifted one eyebrow.

"Mirri, more or less, established the animal economy here in Arash. We celebrate her with races and falconry, dog hunting, things of that sort."

"Fascinating. And what about that other guy?"

"Saint Vasgoth is our patron of warfare, though our city hasn't seen war in a very long time. He's mostly known for erecting the barrier wall, but he was a great warrior as well. We honor his memory with martial contests such as boxing, wrestling, archery. You know."

"Really? I know what I'm doing tonight."

"Yeh cannae be serious!" Bard protested.

"And why the hell not? I've been stuffed up in the inn for nearly two nights straight and I'm damn sick of it."

"So yeh would rather go out there and get yer face kicked in?"

"Really, nanny, I'll have you know I'm a professional face-kicker myself."

"It dinnae mean that I have teh like it!"

"I say go for it." Raul added. "There's a handsome amount of money in it. If you're good enough, that is. In fact, that's why your companions stepped out. Francisco needed a little extra scratch to finish the disguises."

"So what exactly are you planning, if you don't mind my asking?"

"We'll have to make sure it works first. No point in explaining something useless." the vampire sniffed, setting down a now clean glass.

"So where is everyone else, still in bed?" Bard thought to change the subject, not feeling comfortable with the current thoughts running through his head.

"I think the colored gentleman is, yes. I'm not too sure about the Leonin, and the young fellow has been sick all morning."

"How can you tell?" Fang looked at the barkeep with curiosity.

"We vampires have excellent ears...it sounds rather awful."

"I guess that's my fault." she laughed a little, her hand at the back of her head. "It was bound to happen eventually."

"Tainting the poor lad like that, Miss Fang," Bard scowled, "you should be ashamed."

"But I'm not." she replied plainly.

"I dinnae think so. Just thought I'd point that out." the satyr shrugged, defeated.

The inn suddenly shook, a loud bang resound through the place though muffled by the door just beside the stage. Raul's face flattened, he shrugged, and then politely excused himself to go and address the problem. Everyone knew what it was, having grown familiar to the noise by now. Francisco had gone and blown himself up. Again. Raul opened the hidden door to be greeted by a great cloud of gray smoke. Waving his hand in front of him he stepped inside.

Fang and Bard watched from the bar.

"Makes yeh wonder how the place still stands."

"Oh aye." Fang agreed.

Raul appeared some half hour later, Francisco on his arm, covered head to toe in what looked like soot. He was blacker than midnight all over, not a lick of color to him other than the deep blue of his eyes. At least he hadn't managed to make himself appear to have been shat on by a rainbow, like before. And while Raul scolded him once again, Francisco pleaded his case by saying in his favor that he only destroyed half the room this time. Yes, a big difference indeed.

It was after the smoke and dust settled that Lightning and Han returned to the inn. The two descended the stairs almost gingerly, striding across the floor to let a rather sizable bag of gold drop onto the top of the bar. Everyone present turned their eyes to it.

"Sweet teat of Amalthea," Bard gaped at it, disbelieving.

"Damn, sunshine," Fang was leaning back on the stool to have a good look. "Who'd you have to beat up to get that?"

Before Lightning could answer, Raul had stepped up in front of them, having heard but yet to see what had chimed so lovely. "It appears you did quiet well."

"Third place in the lap race." Lightning crossed her arms. "Took first on the trail."

"Congratulations."

"Will it be enough?"

"More than enough, thank you. I'll be sure to give you back what's left."

"No, keep it, we don't use that back home."

"Thank you again, that's very generous. Francisco?"

"Yes?" the other vampire lifted his darkened head.

"Go clean yourself up, you have some shopping to do." And what would have been prime opportunity for him to complain, Francisco rose from the chair and went off to do exactly as his sire said. What's to argue with a good idea?

"Who beat you on the track?" Fang wondered, seemingly unable to comprehend that anyone could out ride her.

"Some midget on a pony just as small as him," she thought back, "and another woman on this massive black stallion. That thing was a monster."

"That big?"

"Biggest I've ever seen. But it didn't take the trail very well." Lightning took a seat, rubbing her forearm across her face, wiping away a fine sheen of sweat.

"Uh-huh." Fang's tone suddenly changed, a smile creeping across her mouth. "So...you two old fogies enjoy your date?"

Han gaped at his tribal sibling, looking repulsed.

"Shut up." Lightning grumbled. "I couldn't have gotten Valkyrie from the stable without him."

"Sure, sure, I understand." Fang's tone was sly, like she knew something she shouldn't.

"You're an ass."

"Least my tits don't sag."

Lightning refused to grace that remark with a response, not in any mood to play that game right now. Han was still standing just behind her, frozen in place, still seemingly unable to fully process what Fang was suggesting. Did she accuse them of...courting? Gods forbid! Not a chance in hell!

Besides, you don't take your woman to watch her race, to watch her nearly knocked out of the saddle by an opponent too fixed on victory. No, that simply wasn't done. You take your woman riding, but not racing. Let the horse slowly amble, not gallop at speeds great enough to break one's neck.

Finally he sat down, unable to say a word about it. He looked stunned and yet, somehow guilty. Clearly he was doing nothing wrong, though I can't honestly say the same for his thoughts.

_(-)_

The master and his lady were not home, not yet. They had gone out for the afternoon, Kasa more than willing to take an opportunity to get out of the villa. That left Vanille to look after the baby, and though that had become a frequent occurrence these last couple of days, she still refused to do it alone. She asked that Donovan come by every so often, if for no other reason than to make herself feel just a bit more secure. If anything were to happen to Haddai while in her care, it could be her head.

But if there was an incident, Donovan would be there, and that gave her enough confidence to make it until the infant's mother returned.

The baby was by no means troublesome, as often was said for human children. Of course he would fuss now and again, but was quiet once placated with what he wanted, which was usually his bottle. Otherwise he was comfortably sleeping in his crib that was situated near a ray of sunshine. Still, in spite of this, Vanille found it difficult to interact with the child. She didn't want to hold him, pick him up, or even look at him if it wasn't necessary. Something about contact with the baby disturbed her, made her feel like someone was rubbing her all over with sand paper. The heebie-jeebies. After a while, though the sensation held, she simply blamed it on the difference in species and went along with it.

When Haddai was in need of something, he would squirm and grunt like any other baby, but when he wasn't attended to quickly enough, he would grind out this inhuman screech. It was strangely bird like and impossible to ignore. The first time Vanille heard it she was terrified, she thought the infant might be dying. Babies just didn't make such noise. Thankfully Donovan arrived not a moment too soon. He had exposure to vampiric children and knew straight away how to take care of it.

Now, in the late afternoon, Vanille sat in a chair beside the cradle, holding the baby as he sucked hungrily on his bottle. He nigh on guzzled down the milky pink mixture, goat's milk mixed with pig blood. Donovan was watching from where he stood, just a couple of steps away.

"It seems to come to you so naturally." he said in quiet wonder, smiling.

"I suppose." she replied somewhat flatly. She'd heard that before.

"Well, at least he doesn't fight you like he does me. He actually likes you."

Vanille didn't want the baby to like her. She wasn't going to be staying long anyhow.

"Something wrong?" he asked, suddenly noticing the distant look in her eyes. "Tired?"

"A little." she confessed. "Just letting my mind wander, really."

"You sure that's all?"

She nodded. It really was just that, though you couldn't really say her mind wandered. Wandering suggested a lack of focus, no known destination. But that wasn't the case. She kept thinking along the same line, thinking of the same faces. Fang and Hope. They were here in the city somewhere. They were here, and they were going to save her.

You would think that alone would make her happy, but she did her best to keep her reactions to a minimum. She didn't want to give the thought away, not even wanting to utter a word of it to Donovan or Beth. Vanille trusted the couple with her life, but there was no telling if they could hide her secret from their master.

"I'm fine." she assured him, even going so far as to try for a sincere smile.

"If you insist." the older man sounded less than willing to relent, but did so anyhow. Then he reached for her, tentative until she realized what he was doing. "Might I have a quick look?"

"What? Oh, yes, just a second. He's almost finished."

Donovan needed to see the stitches, check their progress. Vanille waited until Haddai did his customary grunt and shoving gesture with his pudgy arms before putting him back into his crib. Certain the baby was pacified for the time being, she returned to the doctor and presented her wrists for his inspection.

"Any pain? There doesn't appear to be any fresh bruising,"

"No. They itch from time to time though."

"That's normal. I suppose I could take them out tonight." he surmised, nodding his head in approval. Then he held both of her hands in his, looking still very concerned. "You're certain you're all right?"

"Yes." she insisted with another attempt at a smile. "Stop worrying so much."

"Can you blame me, deary? Really?"

No, she couldn't, all things considered. Perhaps he had every right to act like he did, like a father in fear of his only child's safety. It was actually somewhat comforting to know he was on her side, looking out for her when it felt like everyone else was out to get her.

"Have you been biting it again?"

Vanille looked down, torn from her thoughts by his voice. He was referring to her finger, the flesh on her knuckle still seeming mangled and inflamed.

"No, I haven't." though it looked like she had. There was a hint of yellowing around the sealed wounds that were shaped like teeth.

"Mayhaps it's gotten infected," he wondered. "I'll definitely want to look at that this evening when you come by."

"Okay." she nodded. "Um, do you know when the master will be back?"

"Oh, let me see," he checked his pocket watch. "I would imagine any time now. I suppose they went to the races, which should be long over. I don't imagine it will be much longer."

And he was right. Some quarter of an hour passed after the statement when the lord and lady of the house came into the room. Both servants stood and bent their heads until their owner excused them.

"Did you enjoy your outing, master?" Donovan asked.

"Very much. Although I'm quite positive my good lady wife appreciated it more than I." Hassan laughed.

"Indeed." Kasa agreed. "Was Haddai any trouble for you?" she smiled down at the other servant.

"No, ma'am." was Vanille's meek answer.

"How went the races, master?" Donovan loved to go when he could, and was rather disappoint not to have been allowed to this year.

"Very exciting, I wish you had been with us. Maestro Sinclaire participated this year."

"Did she? Never saw her for much of a jockey, my lord."

"I don't think anyone else did either." the bloodchief laughed. "She took the lap race rather easily."

Donovan's eyes were wide. "And the trail?"

"Some woman with pink hair; _pink hair_, had you ever heard of such a thing?"

"Afraid not, master. It sounds exciting though."

Vanille felt her heart jump slightly. She only knew one person that looked like that. Were all of them here in the city somewhere?

"You're looking much better today, I'm glad to see." Hassan looked to Vanille, noticing a greater presence of color in her face.

"Oh, th-thank you, m-master." she replied, almost blushing.

"Come, walk with me a while, then." and he held his clawed hand out to her. Her emerald gaze shifted from his hand to him and back again, hesitation clear on her face. Knowing she couldn't very well say no, she took it, following him out of the room. She didn't know that Donovan had watched them leave, his face creased with worry.

As rightly it should be.

He worried and fretted over her the rest of the day, and long into the night as he waited, hour by hour, to come and see him as he asked. When she at last arrived, some time after midnight, you can imagine his lack of surprise to see her crying. It broke his heart, although part of him was somewhat glad that she was in a better state than last time. There were some new bruises on her arms, and her backside was red and raw from the careless, repeated impact of someone's hand. A hickey on her neck darkened near old bite marks, but those were minor things.

Donovan didn't say anything, only caught her as she fell against him, sobbing. It had become almost routine by now.

_Just cry, deary...cry all you want. Just don't hurt yourself again. Go ahead and cry._

After a time he was able to sit her down, starting to rummage through his desk for something, anything she could take to calm herself. She appeared to be shaking hard enough to fall to pieces.

Vanille knew she was in his office, could feel her body sitting in the chair, but her mind was elsewhere entirely. It was stuck somehow back where she had been for last few hours, stuck in her master's bedroom.

Stuck there with him and his brother.

As Donovan gently cut away the stitches, pulling them free, she replayed the evening back in her mind, unable to stop it. The corridor, where Hassan had commented on his shame over Tezzim's behavior, his sorrow over her reaction to it, and how he never intended for it to happen in the first place. She couldn't believe a word of it, in spite of the vampire's apparent sincerity. She had heard "sorry" from him enough times.

That was when he lead her into his room, and she spied Tezzim sprawled out on his brother's bed, legs crossed and arms behind his head as he lounged into the pillows. That alone was cause enough for her alarm.

Hassan did feel guilty over what his brother had done to the girl, though I'll admit he was more upset over his not having asked permission than his actions. The bloodchief felt an obligation towards his twin, since he was denied the privileges of Hassan's status simply by being born a few minutes later. He felt the need to share everything with Tezzim, be it women or money or influence, and he had done so without fail for centuries. He had often wondered if, perhaps, he was spoiling his younger sibling. But the thought had always been brief, half lived even in his mind.

Although, Hassan came to conclude, if he was going to play with his toys so roughly, he would have to do so under his supervision from now on. The bloodchief would sit at his desk, pretending to be reading through his papers, whilst Tezzim enjoyed the perks of his brother's position.

The only rule was that he couldn't shed her blood. Otherwise the toy would be taken away.

Vanille felt herself cringe. She could still hear Tezzim, the hiss of his voice echoing through her thoughts.

_"Just look at her, brother. Isn't she the prettiest little thing? The evening sun seems to make her shimmer."_

_ "Hmm."_

_ "Might I undress her now?"_

_ "You may."_

She shivered in the chair, almost drawing her arms and legs inward with disgust.

_"So beautiful, so delicate. Might I touch her?"_

_ "You may."_

Vanille could almost feel the tips of his claws, the chilling press of his fingertips all over her. And as her eyes screwed shut, she recalled having sworn that her owner was smiling, oh so subtly from his seat. It was a game to him. It was a game for both of them, one they had played dozens of times before with dozens of other women.

_"She's so warm, brother. Isn't she?"_

_ "Hmm."_

_ "Might I kiss her?"_

_ "You may."_

The texture of his lips, the moisture, was more akin to a dead fish than a loving gesture of any kind.

_"Brother?"_

_ "Yes?"_

_ "May I fuck her? I can't hold back much longer."_

_ "Carefully."_

_ "Yes, brother."_

Vanille had forced her mind elsewhere then, for once successful, and was just barely aware of his hips bumping into her backside from behind.

_"What are you thinking, little one?"_ he had asked. Too quiet for his brother too hear. _"Certainly not of me. Is there someone else?"_

His quiet laugh at his own question had disgusted her.

_"Is it that boy from the gallery? I'll admit, he did have a certain handsomeness to him."_

That pulled her mind back to the there and then.

_"Are you pretending I'm him?"_

No, she wasn't. How could she? Surely Hope wouldn't such things to her. But, in the end, Tezzim had succeeded in defiling the idea of Hope, tainting the memory she held of him. Perhaps that had been his purpose in mentioning him at all.

_"Would you rather he fuck you instead of me?"_

She remembered having started to cry then, quietly, as she mentally prayed for him to stop. Prayed for him not to say anything more.

Vanille flinched as Donovan tended to the mild infection in her finger, momentarily bringing her back to reality. But only for a moment.

_"Look at this perky backside, Hassan. Isn't it nice?"_

_ "It is."_

_ "Might I have it blush a little? Just a little."_

_ "A little."_

His heavy palm landed on the curve of her buttocks, the contact a wild sting that burned through her. Twice more the loud snap of skin against skin cut the air. She held in the tiny scream that just made it to her throat. Sweet Jesus did it hurt, like a livid blister.

_"That's a nice shade there, isn't it brother?"_

_ "It is."_ Hassan had actually looked, dwelled on it, and then nodded as he went back to his papers.

Tezzim hadn't said much after that, feeling content to ride her until he climaxed with a heavy, drawn out grunt. Vanille thought it would end there. But we all know she isn't that lucky.

_"That was quite nice, thank you, brother. Although,"_

_"What is it?"_

_ "It appears I am not yet satisfied."_ He still sported a full erection._ "Mayhaps I simply can't be content whilst you simply sit there. I don't want you left out."_

_ "How thoughtful of you, Tezzim."_

_ "Why not join us? There's always room for one more."_

Vanille had been stricken with a fresh stab of terror when she saw her master stand and begin to disrobe as he walked towards the bed. Stalking, steady steps that made him look more and more like the hunter his blood demanded he be. He settled onto the bed, on his knees in front of her, and pushed back on her tiny shoulders until she too was on her knees. Tezzim was still behind her.

_Gods no, don't do it. Not this, please, not this..._

Yes. This.

It was only after the twins had finished that she was able to leave, and she went straight to Donovan's office. It seemed the safest place.

The doctor looked up at her, feeling his insides twist at the misery painted on her face and the tears streaming from her eyes.

"Maybe...would you like to stay here tonight?" he asked, feeling it was the only real comfort her could offer.

Vanille could only nod. Though her mind was still alight with the pain and disgust of the late afternoon, she had begun to feel so very tired.

He had a few extra linens and things beneath his own bed, and laid them out across the exam table that she might have a place to sleep. He watched her curl up beneath the blankets, going still, looking so uncomfortable in her own skin. The older man stood by until she appeared to be sleeping, and then decided to retire for the night himself.

It was dark in the adjacent room, Beth having gone to bed some hours ago. He undressed quietly and carefully slid into bed behind her. His arms eased around her small frame and he held her close.

"What is it, darling?" she whispered, half awake.

He didn't answer right away.

"Is she all right?" somehow she knew. Woman's intuition perhaps.

"I'm so angry." Donovan confessed quietly, his body shaking. "Why do they keep doing it to her?"

"I know, dear, I know. But it isn't like we can do anything to stop it. At least she has you to take care of her."

But that failed to make him feel any less guilty.

"Please, try and get some sleep." and Beth kissed his hand as it covered hers in the darkness.

"I'll try." and he held her that much tighter.

Vanille didn't go to sleep straight away, almost fought to stay awake out of fear. Fear of opening her eyes and seeing _him_ looming over her, his slitted eyes glowing.

_Never again_.

She chanted the promise to herself. Not once more would she stand for that bastard to touch her. She didn't care if it kept her in servitude indefinitely, or even if it killed her. Tezzim would not lay another hand on her if it was the last thing she would ever do.

Never again.

Author's Note: I can't believe I got this out on time. I didn't start on it until Friday. I've just had a very busy week. Lots of big stuff going on. If you want to find out what I've been up to, check my deviantart, under Luckyfirerabbit. But I had to force this just a bit, my writer's block is bound and determined to keep me from finishing this damn thing. Can't believe it's been as long as it has. Okay, so our party didn't come to the rescue this time, but I can assure you they will in the next. Don't count on that chapter to be on time, though.


	30. Chapter XXIX

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Mirri and Vasgoth were observed on the fourth day of the Saints Festival.

On the fifth day, Saints Valdera the Elegant and Dross the Arbiter were observed. And on the sixth day, were the Saints Jhessia the Wise and Moroi the Enlightened remembered.

Then came the seventh day of the festival, a day reserved from dawn to midnight for the sole purpose of honoring the founder of their fine city. Kalitas.

Naturally the house of his surviving kin was wildly busy with preparations for the grand party to be held in the villa's pavilion. Though many servants scurried about the manor, performing numerous tasks in flawless procession, even more were out in the markets gathering the finer food items for the lavish banquet. There were so many guests expected.

In another corner of the same district, Dash and Helm were preparing for what would be their last heist. The nature of which Dash had still chose to withhold from his charge. It infuriated the younger, turned vampire. And it only worsened when Helm was presented with the dress his sire had chosen for him as a disguise. Unable to argue, per the terms of the agreement, Helm could only pray that Dash had a damn good idea.

And now, late in the afternoon, that leaves us to look on the Blue Door Inn where our party gathers even now in the quiet seclusion of Raul's office, hammering away at the finer points of their plan.

"The disguises are ready." Raul nodded his head, lounging back in his chair. "However Francisco and I will need an hour or two to get you squared away."

"So what did you come up with?" Lightning asked, arms crossed and her rump leaning against the vamp's desk.

"Well, _if_ it works," Raul started.

"It _will_ work." Francisco countered, to which his sire only glared at him.

"When it works, my partner here has devised a variation of his usual tattoo dye. It can be used topically and stay on the skin for a few hours without smudging. We're going to make you look like bondsman."

"Sounds like fun." Fang sniffed.

"Certainly you can't mean me as well?" Shilo creased his furry brow.

"Of course not, though I'll admit you're going to have to find an alternate route into the villa looking just the way you are."

"I can do that." the Leonin nodded confidently. He could go anywhere he pleased unheard, and usually unseen. As any cat could.

"But by going that course," Raul continued. "You will have to leave your weapons behind. Bondsmen don't usually care any with them lest they are under contract. Most of them in the city are not. And we will have to find you something suitable to wear. Going as you are would only give you away."

Lightning didn't like the idea of having to set her gunblade aside. Just thinking about it made her feel naked. But if it had to be done, so be it. By the tightness in Fang's brow, she could guess her friend was feeling very much the same way.

"How can we get in?" Lightning asked.

"There's a servant's access door on the far side of the front lawn, to the east wing of the manor. The gardens in that area are well kept but grow tall in this season. You should be able to creep through there to reach it. The only risk you should run is the door being locked, which it is from the inside."

"What do we do then?"

"Multiple windows on the second floor are reachable with a little effort. With Shilo as a companion, I would think that a small matter to worry over. But once you are inside I'm afraid there is little more I can tell you that will help."

"What else _can_ you tell us, then?"

"All I know for certain is there is a circuit of closed off corridors behind the manor walls, where the servants live and move about the house. I would imagine they reach every room in the manor. It should make getting around undetected rather simple."

"Where would she most likely be?" it was Fang asking the questions now.

Raul looked at her with a sober expression, though somewhat sympathetic. "That's something I cannot say for sure. Those hidden hallways would be your best place to begin, but in reality she could be anywhere. Perhaps even at the party." and his slitted eyes settle on Bard and Sazh who stood beside one another near the door.

Both of them were silent for a moment, until Sazh finally vocalized what they were both thinking.

"What do we do then? If we see her,"

"We will be there with you," Francisco interjected. "Perhaps Raul and I can come up with some sort a signal, something commonplace that no one would think out of the ordinary." He looked to his sire as if waiting for him to speak, to have an answer as he so often did.

"Mayhaps we could. Some bit of sorcery or something of the like," Raul put his hand to his chin, tapping his cheek with the tip of one claw. Everyone was quiet, thinking. Than Kibo sounded from his perch atop a bookcase, having gone completely unnoticed until now. Damn animal seemed to disappear, like a spirit.

"Maybe he could help us then." Raul pointed, smiling at how the bird had startled him just a little. "The manor is very near to the pavilion where we'll be. I could send him there should we spot her. He knows your faces so he will be sure to find you."

That fact was almost comforting. Almost. To think something so pivotal was resting on that bird's shoulders. Yeah, I'm terrified. How about you?

"Now, with all that being said, we must discuss the difficult things."

"Difficult things?" Bard swallowed, convinced everything thus far had been the hard part. He had been praying for things to simplify as soon as possible.

"Oh yes. How on earth are we going to flee the city successfully? It won't be long, even if everything goes to plan, before the Nighthawks are on us. They will chase us come hell or high water, until sunrise. And even then, they will simply wait for nightfall and come for us anew."

"Then we fight as we run." the answer was simple for Lightning. If you can't fight, run. If they chase, fight back until they stop. It was easy.

"Not with Nighthawks." Raul shook his head. "There is no stopping them."

"There's a first time for everything." Light assured him.

"Yeah, don't you know? We're miracle workers." Fang smiled sarcastically, knowing only a few others in the room would understand. The comment left the vampires slightly confused.

"Then, I suppose, we're just to play nice and act normal?" Bard asked aloud after clearing his throat. "At least, as normal as we can."

"That's the long and the short of it, my bow-legged fellow." Francisco nodded. "Don't worry. If anything goes wrong, we'll be there."

"Though I'm afraid _you_ have the toughest job of the four of us." Raul pointed at Sazh. "Having been personally invited by the bloodchief, he's going to expect a great deal of interaction with you."

"Fabulous." Sazh shrugged. "What the hell am I supposed to say? I don't know this man from Adam."

"My brother-in-law loves to talk to strangers, you may not have to say anything at all. You may just have to listen to him prattle on. Just find the social butterfly in you."

"I don't like bugs."

"Speaking of whiny old guys," Fang intervened. "Where's Han? And Hope for that matter,"

"They already know their jobs. They didn't need to come." Lightning answered for her. In the back of her mind she knew, if they were being smart, they were preparing to leave right now.

There was a tense quiet for a moment. But it passed.

"Now, should we have to leave in a hurry, it would be best to stay with any crowds." Raul continued, his comment seeming contradictory to what most would do in such circumstances. "It will be less easy for even Nighthawks to spot you as they will assuredly be guarding any back streets once the commotion begins. Though it may take us a little longer than hoped to actually get out of the city, if we get out at all, in the end it will keep us from being caught too soon. At least some of us should get away."

"You don't sound too confident." Light's eyes on him narrowed.

"I'm just being realistic." the vampire replied plainly. "Nighthawks are the best hunters Pulse has ever seen. It would take a near act of the gods to lose them. By any means."

"Hmph. No sweat." Fang almost laughed again. She wasn't afraid, not feeling the need for caution like the others. This was no big ordeal. It was simple for her. Get in, rescue Vanille, get out, whatever the cost. The devil was in the details and she felt fine just leaving them to the infernal bastard.

"So what are we waiting for?"

Raul and Francisco both seemed surprised, eyebrows lifted high. Perhaps, in some way, they simply couldn't believe they were actually going to go through with it. "Well, if everyone's in agreement,"

There was no objection, even if it looked as if Bard was ready and willing to give one. He twiddled his thumbs with his head lowered so no one would see his buck teeth as he chewed on his bottom lip.

"So be it. Let us prepare."

"Heidrun help me," Bard muttered under his breath, almost unheard. Then his feelings just erupted. "If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die happy!"

While everyone was still trying to process exactly what the hell just happened, the satyr practically jumped from where he stood. And though he was clearly agitated by something, he managed to gracefully curl his hand behind Fang's head and pull her to his level for a clumsy, yet clearly sincere occurrence of what some would call sucking face.

When the two separated, everyone gaping, Bard put his hand over his mouth and looked just as stunned as all the others. Perhaps he'd gone and startled himself.

"I-um," he stammered, "I...had better...yeah," and he stumbled back onto his backside in an even clumsier attempt to find the door. When he did, pushing it open, he squirmed through and yanked it shut behind him.

"What did you do?" Lightning asked, accusing.

Fang looked back at her, her eyes wide and mouth ajar. "Normally I'd take credit for that," she started, sounding still a little confused. "But..."

"As entertaining as that was," Raul interfered, "I think it best we return to the matter at hand. We have a lot to do before sundown."

"How long do we have?" Lightning needed to know, she needed the time. It was the soldier in her. Everything on a schedule.

"Three hours." Raul started to stand, stepping out from behind the desk. "But most of that time we'll need to get you ready."

And she only nodded, the party dispersing to address their own business.

Lightning soon found herself in the remains of Francisco's workshop, which wasn't a pile of cinders as she expected, alongside Fang. With Raul off serving his own agenda, that left the two of them with his pint-sized partner.

On the floor, in the middle of a massive scorch mark, were a pair of wooden buckets full of dye. One black, the other a pale shade of steel gray.

"How is this supposed to work, exactly?" Light had an uneasy feeling about it.

"Well, for starters, you need to undress." Francisco answered frankly, though they couldn't see him grinning. "You may not like it, but it's how it is. Gotta cover you from head to toe."

Light swallowed. Oh yeah, this was all going to go just swimmingly. Her gaze shifted to Fang for a brief second, not surprised to find her already unwinding her sari as if none of this was out of the ordinary.

"Come on, sunshine, we don't have all night." Fang pressed. "Besides, it just me and him."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I promise I won't laugh." though that sounded highly unlikely as a grin tugged at the edges of her mouth.

"Go play in traffic." Light grumbled in retort, trying her damnedest not to blush. After winning the battle against the last strings of hesitation, she began to disrobe, bending down to start with her boots.

Francisco started with their hair, turning it jet black with the dye. It wasn't so much of a change for Fang, but Lightning felt so unfamiliar without even having to see herself. And it only became that much more discomforting as they went along, now having to have their skin tone changed from lively, blushing human skin to an almost alien pallor.

Lightning shivered as Francisco pulled a saturated brush up the left swell of her buttocks and the middle of her back, whereas Fang just giggled at the chill. How in the hell could she just laugh like this was nothing? Being naked in front of, more or less, a complete stranger...as if someone familiar would have made it better.

The two of them painting each other wouldn't do much good - as she had the distinct feeling someone, somewhere, would make that their wet dream - that would just be weird. Shilo most certainly wouldn't work, nor Sazh. Lightning found herself shuddering at that thought. Hope...no, the poor boy would be bleeding profusely from the nose at the mere mention of it. Bard...not a chance. Then there was...

Oh no, no, no, no; Light even physically shook her head. Not him, not ever. Although that didn't stop the base, almost animalistic region of her brain to consider the idea for a brief second. Something about a dye smeared threesome. Sweet Jesus Christ, Lightning Farron, wake up!

For the better part of an hour, after Francisco had finished, only lacking the bottoms of their feet, they had to stand there and wait for it to dry. Arms out and feet apart so the color wouldn't be compromised. Even after that was done, the disguises weren't quite complete. They weren't yet convincing enough to even be able to pray to fool those they were impersonating. Now with Raul's help, the two vampire's painted them with the customary bondsmen markings on their faces and bodies. The fraudulent tattoos on their faces had to match, those were considered Brood Marks. If those weren't perfect, they could kiss this whole engagement goodbye.

"Now, we need to dress you properly." Raul nodded in approval as he set down a paintbrush. "Or improperly, if you look at it a certain way."

"What do you mean?" Light could feel another uncomfortable shudder coiling up in her back.

"Bondsman only wear what's necessary, no more. Enough to maintain public decency. I could probably send you out in your knickers and you would fit right in."

"Actually, Raul," Francisco added. "Miss Fang could get away with that. They're perfect."

"Lucky me." and she looked at Lightning, smug as her arms crossed over her still naked breasts.

"So what do we do about her?"

"Where's that fur bikini when you need it, eh?"

"Seriously, Fang," if her skin was clean, you could see Light blushing furiously. There was a strange pink tint where it would've been red. "Traffic. I mean it."

"I think we have one of those in the dancer's costume closet." Francisco considered aloud. "Should I have a look?"

"If it's what we have." Raul shrugged. "It may have to do."

_Fuck my life._ And Light simply scowled.

Once the issue of attire was solved, albeit somewhat begrudgingly, there was but one last thing that needed to be covered up. Raul used his sorcery to cast a glamor, a spell that would change their appearance even more for several hours. He put a hand across their eyes in turn, and when he stepped away they had become black and white slitted. Now everyone would see them as they should be, the eyes of predators, not mortals.

"There we are. I think this a fine job you've done, Francisco."

"That's what I kept telling you." the shorter one smirked.

"And I suppose you will have someone take your weapons and other belongings to the...flying machine?" he'd only heard enough about to know it was a machine. And that it could fly.

Hope had yet to leave with Han, he could take them.

"Best get on with it. Dusk is upon us."

Han had been sitting up in his room, quiet, all day. He hadn't left it once. He just sat in his bed, elbow on his knee and knuckles under his chin. You would think he was thinking deeply about something, but what would take up an entire day?

_I would fear for you_.

The thought played over and over, had been for some time now, and he couldn't stop it. Why had it chosen to linger when all other ideas of such a nature had since passed on? Teh'Han was very well aware of her disdain for him, knew of her, at best, indifference towards him. So why? At the first of the morning, when the thought began to plague him, his plan was to puff on his pipe until it faded. No such luck. The tobacco was gone. That left him to stew, and that only took him in circles in his mind.

There simply was no reason for his concern. He knew she was capable of caring for herself. She was a grown woman after all. A very strong one at that. But...

She had such a gentle hand when she tried. The night after escaping Dreadwood, she had been so considerate of him. Then the night in Kushta, she simply sat there and listened to him as he cried, bemoaning his poor fortune. And then the afternoon awaiting the airship. She rode across the grasslands on Valkyrie's back as if she had been born to do it, so graceful and yet intense. It was...

No. No it wasn't.

It was her eyes, he told himself. She was too much like Naya. That's what this was all about. Naya had been a warrior, much like Lightning, had been very strong and somewhat motherly to her family. She tended to the needs of her clan as Lightning saw to the safety of her companions.

But Lightning hardly ever smiled, whereas Naya had always been so lively, vibrant and joyful. That was all it was. His mind was playing tricks on him, trying to make him believe in something that didn't exist. Without meaning to, he was looking for something long since gone in someone else.

How pathetic.

What a miserable man he was. And though he had been true to his word and come here, at the chance of his own life and rebounding terror, he wasn't worthy enough to be counted on by anyone. Nothing had changed, not in the years he had been alive. He was still a nobody, a bad blessing, and all that had ever been altered was the magnitude of his self-loathing. Why had the gods even bothered to burden his mother with his conception?

Han's brow tightened enough to be painful, his eyes shut as his hand curled into a fist.

Then there was a knock at the door, which opened without his permission or denial. A bondswoman waltzed right in. A streak of terror shot through him, forcing him upright in a split second. Before he could fully grasp the large hatchet at his belt, his mind caught up with him, picking out the supposed vampire's familiar features, and it stilled him.

"Gods," he started to pant, his heart thrumming. "Announce yourself next time you're lookin' like that."

Lightning almost apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you. Are you ready to go?"

"Huh? Oh yes. Whenever the young lad is."

"Best be on then, the gates are going to close soon." Hope was actually waiting out in the hallway, hence the pointing gesture of her thumb over her shoulder.

Han nodded, leaning into his first steps towards the door, still feeling wary of her in spite of knowing it was just a disguise. He had spent too many nights waking from a nightmare of a bondsman's face, how could he suddenly not react? But once again he found it in him to swallow the fear, and managed to stop just beside her.

He couldn't speak at first, and only managed to stare at Hope as he stood there waiting.

"What is it?" Lightning couldn't stand how quiet he was for very long.

His jaw was tight, his body tense, and finally, "Be careful." Only then was he able to continue on his way. And she made no effort to reply, only thinking of what to say after he was out of sight. Out of reach.

_"You too."_

Hope and Teh'Han went to the stables and retrieved Valkyrie, and rode the mare hard and fast out of the city and into the grasslands. The sun was dangling on the horizon when they reached the airship, the sky burning where it met the earth in the last few moments of evening glory. Just a few minutes more and the gates of Arash would be sealed.

Hope dismounted, sliding to the ground and hurrying up the lowered ramp at the rump of the craft. He carried his companions' clothes on his arm.

"There should be just enough room for her," the young man said, looking back at the horse. "Though someone might need to hold on to her through the flight."

"Hmm." Han replied, distant. His mind was far elsewhere, far away and conflicted. He looked back over his shoulder, back to Arash, his brow furrowed and his lips thinned. Something was nagging him. He knew exactly what it was, but was far from certain as to how to deal with it. Although, there were only two choices. Do, or don't.

Don't, and most likely live through it. Do, and it was sure to get him killed. You would think the choice would be easy. On the contrary, his indecision was like all out warfare. Perhaps if he had more time to think it over...oh, to hell with it.

Han slid from Valkyrie's back and made a mad dash to cross the some odd miles back to the city before the gates were shut, leaving Hope standing there, baffled.

"Great." he shrugged. Needless to say the idea of being out here by himself at all, much less at night, didn't sound all that pleasant. "I'm screwed."

Darkness fell, stars dotted the sky, and soon a half waning moon rose above the city. Most of the other districts, even Saints Plaza, were empty or had little going on. All of the commotion and light was coming from the heart of Kalitas district, from the Bloodchief's pavilion. It was a glittering gemstone in the darkness, light from dozens of oil basins and torches shining through the stained glass of the structure's dome ceiling. There were no less than one hundred in attendance for the party, the pavilion stuffed to capacity with nobles and their bondsman, humans, servants, and entertainment. Music was playing, and an unparalleled selection of food and drink was spread across half a dozen long tables that were arranged end to end.

Francisco was waiting for his partner to return, standing near to Bard as the satyr played almost feverishly on his violin. It was customary for Raul to greet his brother-in-law and spend if just a little time speaking with him. They were good friends after all, and family. But, considering he was here to perform, their meeting was short.

"Hassan and our colored friend are getting along well, that's good." Raul mentioned as he appeared from the crowd. "So far so good, although no sign of the girl yet."

"I have yet to see her either." Francisco frowned. "The night is still early yet, though."

"Indeed. What say we get started then? The more attention we draw, the less eyes that will be idle enough to look where they shouldn't."

"Indeed."

"Where's Kibo?"

"Don't worry," Raul assured him. "He can see us."

Some were dancing to the music, several pairs having somewhat sequestered a portion of the pavilion for themselves. One pair in particular looked strange, almost a sore thumb in comparison to the others.

"I hate you, Dash. I truly do." Helm grumbled, trying miserably to feign a more feminine voice.

"I know." He grinned.

"_Now_ could you tell me what you're planning?"

Before he answered, he gave Helm a customary spin, per the dance steps, and then brought him close to his chest again.

"Have you ever seen a portrait of Saint Kalitas?"

"No." Helm replied as if that were a damn stupid question.

"Rightly so. You see, there's only one, and it's here in the manor." Dash giggled a little, his smile wide enough for his fangs to show. "And we're going to snatch it."

Helm gaped, actually somewhat impressed. Then he flinched. "If there's only one, then how the hell are we going to sell it without being caught?"

"We're not going to sell it." Dash spun him again.

"Then what in the gods' names are we going to do with it; use it for a table linen?"

"We're going to ransom it. Think of the price we could fetch for such a rare heirloom."

Helm thought about it, and thought about it, let it percolate in his head. "You know...that's easily the best idea you've ever had."

"I know." the pure blood sighed smugly. "I'd imagine it to be rather simple. What with all of the Bloodchief's security here in the pavilion. I'd say the most difficult thing would be creeping through any foliage without getting hung up by your dress."

"Again," Helm nodded with a jerk of his head. "_Hate_ you."

"That's all well and good. Once we're rich you won't care."

On the far side of the manor, amongst the gardens in the greater darkness, something stirred. Our mortals posing as bondsman moved quickly and quietly passed the roses and holly bushes towards the villa's east wing.

The walk here had been surprisingly easy. Barely a glance had been given them, even out of curiosity. It seemed they were fooling everyone, even nobles and pure blooded vamps who looked at them directly, but then looked away, saw nothing amiss.

The two managed across the property unnoticed, easy enough with all the attention on the pavilion. They reached the eastern facade of the manor, ducking low as they followed it until they found the servant access door. Lightning chanced the handle, pulling, and found it would give. Someone had left it unlocked.

"We'll wait," she whispered. "Just a minute or two, until Shilo gets here."

Fang didn't want to wait, they were here at last and she didn't want to have to pause for another fucking second longer. Still, it would be best. Another set of helping hands would give them better chances.

They didn't hear the Leonin closing in on them. Somehow, without notice, Shilo had scaled the barrier wall, walking the top of it on all fours as naturally as he breathed. No one saw him, not even a fleeting shadow, and that allowed him to move about unhindered. He leaped down into the garden, landing with only the whisper of moving air around him. Still on all fours he appeared before them.

"Sorry it took so long. I wanted to make sure you weren't followed. Also," his amber eyes shimmered in the darkness, and lifted. "There are those Nighthawks about. I saw one. We must be careful."

"How many do you think?" Light whispered.

"I couldn't tell. At least one, I am certain. I would guess more."

"Let's just get going, before we're spotted." Fang was agitated, even with her hushed voice the other two of them could hear it.

"Go on ahead. I will stay here a moment longer." he wanted to check one last time, just in case by some very slim chance someone had spotted them. "Don't worry, I will find you, go on."

Shilo waited until the two humans were inside before moving. Still crouching he skulked back some distance the way he came, nose sniffing and pushing out a tiny sigh. A tiny sigh that huffed out of him just as he sat down amongst a thicket of flowering bushes.

"You muster up the courage to come all this way," he said softly, as if someone was there, "and then you cannot show your face. Really, _Ae mot_."

But someone was there, on his hand a knees in the dirt. "At least I'm here."

"Yes, that _is_ saying something. What made you do it?"

Teh'Han looked away from his friend. "I'm asking myself the same thing."

"Oh well," the Leonin shrugged softly. "Can't be helped now. Come, let's put ourselves to use."

Bard was beginning to feel so incredibly uncomfortable. His nerves were on the verge of killing him outright with a heart attack or an aneurysm. Any second now a vein was going to pop and he was going to slump over and die. Sweet gods, he was just terrified. There was no making it better, it was like being caught with your hand in the cookie jar. He was guilty as charged, whatever the grievance, and he hadn't even done anything yet. Just being here under the pretense he was marked him. He felt like a bull's-eye was painted bright red on his back.

His eyes darted through the massive crowd between songs, a glass of water shaking in his hand. He was on the look out for familiar faces, anyone. Without meaning to he was keeping silent tabs on those he could pick out. Raul and Francisco were just in front of him, surrounded by guests who were bedazzled by their sorcery. He spotted Sazh still neck-deep in conversation with the Bloodchief, having been there since his arrival. Hassan's bondsman, Affir, kept inching in and out of sight, systematically every so often. Was he wandering off somewhere, perhaps back to the manor? Was he going to discover Fang and Lightning creeping through his master's house? Would he kill them, or raise the alarm?

Bard's mind spun with all these horrible mysteries, unable to offer himself any answers. His attention was suddenly diverted at the flash of green in the corner of his eye. He straightened, stretching himself upward to see what it was. Could it be...no, it was Maestro Sinclaire.

What was she doing here? And this late? It was perhaps...a quarter after the eleventh hour. Personally, he thought her kind returned to their crypts at night. Immediately she was in the Bloodchief's presence, speaking with him with a rare, yet genuine smile on her face. A bit of him was a little curious as to what they could've been talking about. Someone touched his shoulder.

He jumped with a loud bleat, what was left of the water in his small glass went everywhere, first up, and then down on him.

"Everything all right?"

"Would ya not do that?" he whined to the smaller vampire. He was just over there and now he was right here. How in the hell...

"You should really calm down."

"You're not helping."

"Sorry about that." Francisco was smiling, though he was genuinely apologetic. "Seen anyone unusual?"

"Other than myself? No. I _have_ noticed the magistrate innae anywhere to be seen yet the maestro is. Typically they're attached at the hip. At least that's how I always gathered it."

"Oh, rest assured they're attached somewhere." Francisco giggled to himself. "It'll be all right my friend, don't worry. Just keep playing and take it as it comes."

"What if it comes for my rump?" he sounded genuinely concerned of the possibility.

"Then bend over and take it with dignity."

The manor was quiet, dark, the corridors empty and darkened only by the shadows of the columns in the moonlight.

Lady Kasa had been stricken with a bout of fatigue since the afternoon. Perhaps the walk through the garden had taken more out of her than she had first thought. This weighted her decision to not attend the party tonight. Hassan was disappointed, but also understanding. And as much as he wanted to stay with her and the baby, he had an obligation to his guests. Still, Affir had come to check on her every now and then.

For a short while she kept the lamp on her bedside table lit to read from her favorite book of poems and philosophy, but that only placated her so long. When she couldn't do it any longer she put out the light and lay down. She drifted in and out of uneasy sleep, feeling the need to roll over and look to Haddai's crib. Every time she would look and see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing amiss. Then she would turn away, resting her head against the pillow once more.

Kasa rolled over again, not intentionally but whilst in the throws of that fleeting sleep. She was still for a moment, and then chanced to open her eyes, just parting the lids enough for the amethyst around the black slits to shimmer in the shadow of the bed curtains.

Something stood over Haddai's crib. A looming mass of shadow that had seemed to materialize out of nowhere. She bolted upright with her instinct's dictation, motioning to jump from the bed to her child.

"Don't."

The voice was a low growl, intense enough to force her hesitation even as she teetered precariously on her knees, the blankets having moved away. Silver eyes met her slitted ones and, strangely enough, she didn't feel threatened. Not immediately.

"Who are you?"

"Shhh, you'll frighten the boy." was the shade's reply.

Kasa's lack of fear did not remain. Her vision adjusted to the poor amount of light and a greater clarity of the apparition came upon her. Surely it was a living thing, a mortal with a heartbeat that was almost silent compared to any other. What she thought to be some foul dwimmerlaik was nothing more than a man. But, where one would imagine the wispy smoke of limbs would be on such a phantom, there was an arm laid heavy with muscle and armored in steel. She made out the claws clear enough, and her terror surfaced. It showed on her normally statuesque features as creases in her face and widening in her eyes.

Han had been stalking the hidden hallways, peaking into any room he crossed, rarely stepping into them as they were surely empty. But this one had not been vacant. He had waited patiently within the doorway, waited for the lamplight to be snuffed before taking his first step, watching the vampire without her ever realizing it.

He looked down at the babe, marveling as it was his first time ever seeing a child birthed of these..._people_. It was so similar, and yet so alien to a human newborn. Carefully he raised his only hand, lowering it to the wonder of the curious infant. It marveled him. Was this child not aware that his death could very well be towering over him? Han could bring all of house Kalitas to its knees with but the slightest flick of his wrist. It would be so easy to murder this infant that would one day be nothing more than another propagator of the culture that had brought his world crashing down. How many lives would he destroy, over how many centuries?

"I did not hear your footsteps." Kasa said aloud, disbelieving, angry.

"I removed my shoes and rolled my feet as I walked." it had rendered his progression through the house silent.

"I...I couldn't hear you breathe,"

"I held my breath until you moved." whenever she rolled over, turned a page, shifted beneath the covers, he would inhale and exhale.

"I couldn't even smell you."

"I come from the wilds that surround your city. I smell of nothing you are not aware of."

Kasa felt so helpless, paralyzed.

"Where is your bondsman?" he needed to know for sure if anyone else was here. "Where is he hiding?"

"In his tomb," she replied bitterly. "He died protecting me."

"A good death." he nodded slowly, his eyes still on the baby. "Are there others in the manor?"

"My husband's and his brother's. But that is all." the vampire could feel herself trembling, a sensation that was relatively new to her in spite of her long life. "Please...what do you want?"

"You know...I was nearly a father. This, of course, was some time ago..." his face twisted into a heavy, acrid grimace. "Then _your people_ came and took that away. Vampires destroyed my home and murdered the only woman I ever loved...and our unborn child."

Kasa's breath caught, something Han heard by chance.

"What is his name?"

A question the vampire certainly did not expect. "Haddai."

"Hmm, good name." he nodded again, his features softening a little. "I never got the chance to name my child. I never got to share my love with them as I'm sure you do with yours...all I will ever know is that," he had to breathe, tears threatening as his memories took him back, "that soul shattering _wail_."

"Is that what you are here for?" she asked with an air of accusation. "You wish to pay back you misery on us?"

He had honestly thought about it when he first saw the baby. It came to him suddenly and he didn't force it away. He simply took the time to contemplate it.

"I...I understand your pain, truly, but it was not I who wronged you, nor my husband. And it was certainly not my son." Kasa's words had sobs hidden in them, real fear bleeding through. "But if you must have revenge...then take it out on me. Spare him."

An intense, stabbing argent gaze fell on her and she felt its great weight. His steel covered hand had unconsciously curled into a tight fist and it shook with tension. For a split second he considered it. Nighthawks be damned - as they would be drawn by the smell of her blood - he wished to slay this blood sucking whore and be done. Let the Nighthawks kill him for it. But that faded as quickly as it had come.

His body loosened and he looked once more at the baby. "If I were any other man...I would do just that. But I am not." Death didn't restore life, and it wouldn't chase away the nightmares. "I am not here for you or the boy. I am looking for a girl, one of your slaves. She is small, bright red hair, green eyes,"

"Y-yes, yes, I know." Kasa nodded.

"If you would surrender her then I will leave. Just tell me where."

"I...I do not know. Surely she is still on the property...perhaps in the servant's quarters."

"And if not there?"

"At the pavilion with my husband."

"And if not there?" he asked again. There were quite literally hundreds of places this girl could be.

Kasa was quiet a moment, her mind frantic to find an answer. "My...my husband's brother...he..._favors_ her...perhaps she would be in his room."

"Where is that?"

"The far side of this corridor. Turn west at its end and follow it. The door has silver adornments."

"Thank you." he lowered his head, an almost mocking attempt at a respectful bow. "And do not warn anyone of me until I've gone. Otherwise I will be back...and you will not hear me _then_, either."

Kasa only blinked and then found him gone. No footsteps, no breath, it was like he had ceased to exist. No matter, all that concerned her now was the baby. She lunged from the bed to his crib and gathered him into her arms.

Vanille knew this was coming, had felt it tugging at the back of her mind since the fifth day of the festival. Tezzim had been distant the last two days, she hadn't even caught the slightest glimpse of him or the slightest chill of his presence. Yet now he was back again.

But she was ready this time.

He had summoned her under the previously unused pretense of needing help straightening up his room.

"I'm expecting company this evening." he had explained. "I want everything to be tidy."

She acted unaffected by the unfamiliarity of the request and went about doing just that. Gathering loose and strew about papers, making his bed, organizing his desk to where it looked less like a hell hole. She even swept the floor.

And all the while Tezzim lounged in his desk chair and talked. At first it was idle prattling of everything and nothing, but as she neared the completion of her task, it changed to something a little more cohesive.

"I don't suppose you've met Maestro Sinclaire yet, have you? No, I didn't think so." he hadn't even waited for her to answer. "Sabine will be my guest tonight." he smiled. "I'm going to ask her to marry me, you know."

_Good for you. _Although she failed miserably to see how anyone could ever stand to love this man enough to legally bind themselves to him.

"She is, _easily_, the most astounding woman I have ever met in my long life, the only one I've ever really loved."

That last statement was, actually, somewhat comforting. Odd.

"She was the first woman to ever tell me no." he laughed. "I pursued her for nearly a month before she would bother to have dinner with me. Sabine used to be such a timid little thing, now she can drag me around by the ears if she wants."

_I bet _that_ gets you off like nothing else can_. Without him seeing she rolled her eyes.

"But I believe it was that quiet dominance that drew me to her in the first place. It's not often you meet strong women like that."

With his room now satisfactorily tidied, Tezzim stood, beckoning her to his side. Her body tensed as she drew closer to him, her expression resembling something far more severe than her typical hesitation and withdrawn fear.

"Be a dear and undress me."

Her jaw tightened as she obeyed.

"Although, considering how happy I should be about this," Tezzim started again as Vanille eased the buttons of his tunic apart. "I've come to realize there is a bit of a problem."

Vanille could feel a tickle of dread in her stomach, like something awful was threatening to happen.

"I've been mulling over it for days now, almost fretting. I kept asking myself the same question over and over, and found no real answers. Not at first."

Tezzim lifted one leg that she might pull off his boots. When she stood again he put his large hands on her shoulders. She tensed again, his claws scratching.

"Because, you see, I've realized it is about time I sewed my wild oats and settled down, committed myself to one woman. I'm nearly four hundred after all. And that is where I found my obstacle." A smile stretched across his mouth, an apologetic one. "I'm afraid I've gotten rather attached to you, little one, and that simply won't do. So I started asking myself a new question: which of you was the better?"

She felt the need to vomit.

"I mean, you can imagine my dilemma. You're both rather beautiful, and sweet in your own ways. I could go on all day on how you two are alike, but that wouldn't get me anywhere."

He turned her away and circled his muscled arms around her. Her skin crawled at his touch, his restrictive embrace.

"So I needed to decided what was it that made you different, different enough to make me choose one or the other. It took some time, but then it hit me."

Vanille bit her lip, her eyes screwed shut. Tezzim had lowered his head, his mouth near her ear, and he had brushed the hair from her shoulder to expose her neck. His breath was warm in contrast to his flesh.

"A small, yet a bit ever-so-crucial detail." he paused, a taking a breath. "Sabine doesn't cry when I fuck her in the ass. So...I'm afraid I can't keep you any longer, little one. Too much temptation."

Then the vampire jerked the girl around, opened his jaws and lunged for her throat. It was a swift movement, but Vanille saw it slow motion. Her eyes were fixed on his mouth as it slowly parted in a savage snarl, fangs revealed and glistening. A thick pressure erupted in her throat just before the ripping burn of penetration tore through her. His lips began to draw on the wound, pulling blood out from her trembling, resisting body. One of his hands gripped a handful of her hair, forcing her compliance with a hard tug. His other arm was still firm around her. Her arms were trapped at her side, but not in such a way that robbed her of all movement.

Vanille forced the pain down, forced the panic and terror away enough to focus. Part of her had known this was going to happen, a little voice of warning in her head. Unlike before, when she had not the courage or the desperation needed, she listened and acted. She twisted one arm, managing it back to reach behind her. Quickly, almost fumbling, reached beneath the silken wrap around her waist, finding what she had concealed there. A knife from Donovan's office, the same she had used on herself, that she had hidden betwixt the pert cheeks of her backside. Where else could she have put it, honestly?

With it firmly in her fist, blade forward, she twisted against him.

She stabbed him.

Tezzim jerked against the piercing pain in his side, and again at its return for a second time. He grunted, his eyes flying wide open as his mouth still hung ajar, blood dripping from his lips. He looked down at the servant girl, saw the quiet fury on her face, in the tightened features.

She stabbed once more, aiming between his legs.

Tezzim hit the floor with the knife as she dropped it, growling and howling as he clutched his lacerated cock through his blood sodden pants. Vanille would have stayed a moment longer if she had it, spat in his face, but there was no time. She knew Amala was in the room, and knew she had but a split second to move before the bondswoman was on her. She felt the rush of air, the quiet whisper of swift footsteps across marble, and ducked as the vampire once hidden materialized from nowhere in attempts to jump her.

Then she stood up again and, like a shot, bolted for the door. Blood was rushing down the side of her throat, over her shoulder and down her chest. Her heart was struggling to beat in spite of the diminished pressure. She had to run, she had no other choice. She was going to escape or she was going to die trying.

"Stop the whore!" Tezzim bellowed the order to his bondswoman as he rolled in agony on the floor. "GO!"

Lightning, Fang, and Shilo heard the terrible cries from further down the corridor, the sounds making the three of them pause. What in the gods' names was that? It didn't sound good, not at all. From their hiding places at separate columns they looked to one another, each unsure of what it could've been or what they should do. Stay put, move on...what? Perhaps wait a moment longer, something sounding faintly of hurried footsteps was advancing down the moonlit hallway towards them.

Vanille didn't consciously know where she was going, or if she could make it if she did. All she knew is that she hadn't been caught yet, and running as fast as her legs would carry would help her stay that way. Amala was right on her heels, she could feel the bondswoman closing in, hear the almost feline growling echoing off the walls. By some stroke of odd luck, she stumbled over her own feet, but it was just at the right moment to keep from being tackled as the bondswoman pounced from the wall. Her skin skid across the marble, the friction burning, but she stood again nonetheless and pressed on. Maybe if she could get into the hidden hallways, maybe then she could have a moment to breathe and recollect herself enough to escape. She simply had to get the fuck out of this house.

Amala hissed in frustration as the human was able to elude her still. She quickly regained her footing and continued in hot pursuit. Her strides were long, light, swift, and she was closing in. Just a few more steps and she would have the pitiful mortal in her claws. So focused she was on her prey that she didn't even sense the Leonin slipping out of his hiding place, leaping on all fours up behind her. Shilo's muscles rippled as he reached, soaring through the air, his body stretching with claws out in front.

The bondswoman, however, did see something dart out from behind a column in front of her. But she could do nothing about it. Something wasn't right...what was another bondsman doing in the manor, and why did they reach for the slave with no intent to stop her? As she was yanked to the marble floor by her ankle, a powerful paw viced around it, she saw as the other vampire - what she thought was another vampire - grabbed the mortal and pulled her out of Amala's reach. She twisted, writhing on the floor, furious as she managed to look into the piercing amber eyes of the Leonin that had settled on her back. Before she could make another sound, attempt to give them away, Shilo struck her in the face with his fist. Effectively keeping her quiet.

Vanille's only thought was to fight back against the arms that held her, her eyes screwed shut as she struggled with everything she had.

"Vanille, stop," Fang demanded, "stop, it's me!"

She froze, slowly raising her head and opening her eyes. Her senses were screaming at her, her instincts telling her to fight, to run. But no, she knew that face, though it was hidden under a vampire's guise. She knew that voice.

"Is it...are you," she couldn't finish, she almost couldn't believe it. She couldn't find the words, and instead threw her arms around Fang's neck, holding on for dear life. "Fang, you came!" she sobbed.

"It's all right, I'm here." she felt Vanille's body shudder with her heavy gasping, feeling it crush her heart.

"Please," she begged, her fingers curling tightly against Fang's skin, desperate, "please, get me away from here!"

"Calm down now, don't worry." Fang did her best to soothe her, pushing her just enough away so she could see her face. "You're going on ahead with Shilo, and we'll be right behind you."

"Who," Vanille turned her head to see the Leonin towering behind her. She looked up at him, marveling even as he smiled. Then she whipped her head back to her sister, mortified. "Why aren't you coming with us?"

"We've got to make sure we're not followed, and the other's need to know we've found you. Don't worry, we'll catch up. I promise."

Vanille gripped her tighter. "Please, Fang, don't-,"

"The living_ fuck _is going on _here_?"

All of them turned their heads at the horrid bellow that ripped down the corridor, turned to see the bloodied vampire standing there, slitted eyes alight with fury and pain. He left streaks of crimson footprints down the length of marble between his room and where he stood now, and he had smudged a messy print of his own hand on his face. One of his arms dangled free at his side, claws dripping from nursing his wounds, whilst the other one cradled his injured privates. More stout rivulets of blood trickled down his legs and eventually dripped to the floor. He looked monstrous in the ivory light.

Tezzim panted heavily, hunched forward, his entire body tense with muscles bulging. He stretched out his free hand, curling one finger.

"Come here, little one," he beckoned in a mockingly sweet tone of voice, though it was still a hateful snarl. "I must repay you for your poking me,"

Vanille shrank against her sister, still so terrified of him. Her courage had disappeared, snuffed out like a candle flame. Even when she saw Lightning emerge from the shadows, also colored like a vampire, she could find no heart.

"Let us leave and we'll let you live." Lightning made the offer, expecting no discussion. Only compliance.

"Ha!" Tezzim heaved out. "HA-HA-HA-_HAH_! _You_ dare to threaten _me_? But, before you answer that, who did that lovely glamor? Was it Raul?"

There was a slight shudder. The magic had worn off. He knew they were only human.

"I'll be sure to stick that pig later, but first," his brow tightened and he took a staggering step forward, wincing as fresh pain shot through him. "Give me the girl, and I will kill you quickly."

They stood resolutely against him, Fang now acting as Vanille's shield.

"No? Very well. Then I will just take her." and he suddenly disappeared, leaving behind only a phantasm of black smoke.

Author's Note: I did the cliff hanger on purpose. What kind of writer would I be if I didn't tease my audience every once and a while? A boring one, that's what. Anyway, hope you lot are enjoying it thus far, though I can honestly say that in spite of how looks, things are far from over. I will see you next chapter, ready a raring to ruin some innocent lives!


	31. Chapter XXX

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty**

The vampire noble had disappeared into thin air. The smoke of his final trace had dissipated into the air. The party felt as if they were treading on pins and needles, any false move could be disaster.

_Pwoof!_

Tezzim suddenly reappeared, belting Shilo across the muzzle with his bloodied fist just before blinking out of sight again. The Leonin reeled, clutching his snout.

_Pwoof_!

Visible once more, he materialized briefly before Lightning, twisting in such a way that his elbow collided with her cheekbone, hard. Something in her nose cracked and blood started to flow from it. Then he was gone.

Fang couldn't react fast enough to catch him when he reappeared a third time. He burst back into existence behind Vanille, out of her field of vision, and one of his arms curled about Vanille's neck as his other reached out. He gripped a hearty handful of Fang's hair and yanked her back, off her feet and onto the floor. He quickly pressed his bare, blood stained foot across her throat. Vanille screamed, petrified.

"_Let me live_ you say? _Let me_? Funny, I don't believe you've kept good on you threat do you?" he looked down his nose at the woman beneath his foot, watched her squirm, struggle to breathe and claw at his ankle and calf with desperately pointed fingers. He was wary of the other two who were now standing once more. His slitted eyes settled on them. "One step closer and I will kill them both."

As much as they didn't wish to, Lightning and Shilo remained where they were.

"Well, I intend to kill all of you anyway, I suppose you'll just have to choose who goes first. What do you think, little one? What about the big furry one? He would make a nice blanket for my marriage bed, don't you think?"

Vanille couldn't speak. She was beside herself, crying. And weakening from the blood loss.

"What's the matter?" Tezzim feigned concern. "Don't you want to watch? Don't you want to witness their last few moments alive? No? Well then, perhaps I should do away with _you_ first so you can't see them suffer," he laughed. "I was going to go easy on you before, you know? I was even going to see to it you didn't become a Null. And to think I still would consider it now had you not stabbed me where you did."

Lightning felt helpless, as did Shilo. What could they do? Neither of them were nearly fast enough to reach him before he hurt either one of them. She felt her jaw tightening, her hands curling into fists. If she had her gunblade...

Tezzim was laughing as he drew the tip of his claw across Vanille's throat, catching a droplet of blood on it and bringing it to his tongue.

"Just one last taste before you go, eh love?" he laughed again, his hands easing just so about her head. He was going to snap her neck. Just one quick twist.

Perhaps it was the loss of blood, or the power trip, or maybe even Vanille's staggering cries of desperation; whatever the reason, somehow Tezzim didn't hear the steps advancing on him from behind, the didn't hear the whistle of air over steel, but only felt a raking, splitting pain up his back just as he started to tense his muscles. His body arched sharply, his arms reaching back towards the horrendous infliction. His balance wavered, his grip loosened.

Fang immediately stood, grabbing Vanille and pulling her out of the vampire's reach. She hurried to Shilo.

"Take her." she said, "Don't stop, whatever you do. Get her out of here."

"You have my word." the lion nodded, gathering the girl in his arms. "Come, little sister. And hold on."

"Fang, please," she whimpered.

"I'll catch up." Fang promised. "Now go."

Vanille watched Fang drop out of sight as Shilo swept her up, carrying her out of the manor through a second floor window. They dropped silently into the garden below, where he crouched and helped her onto his back.

"Just hold tight now," he cautioned before they were off again. The lion moved swiftly and silently to the barrier wall, scaling it with little difficulty to its crest, and there he started to run. His eyes moved from side to side, wary of anything and everything. Also he kept his eyes on the grassy ground outside the wall, waiting until they reached a place safe to jump from. Once on the ground he gave his all to reach the airship, crossing the darkened plain towards the dim glow of the ship's open rear end.

There Hope was waiting, nervously pacing back and forth, his razor rings tucked in their holsters beneath his arms. He had been doing this for hours, anxious and unable to stay still with only the horse to keep him company. Then he could just hear the rustling rhythm of long strides in the grass, squinting in the darkness in hopes of seeing what it was. Would it be one of those Nighthawk things he had heard about?

The dirty blond of a lion's mane and the amber eyes came into the light and he was able to breathe again.

"What about the others?"

"They will come when they can." was the only answer Shilo could give him in confidence. "No one knows of them yet."

"That's good."

"But she needs help." and Shilo crouched once more, allowing Hope to see his passenger. "The bleeding will not stop on its own."

Hope felt his heart jump into his throat. He hadn't seen that much blood...ever. Vanille looked pale, her eyes half lidded in dwindling consciousness. "Come on, there's a first aid kit under the co-pilot's chair."

Back in the manor, Tezzim still writhed from the fresh gashes ripped across his shoulder blades. He stumbled to the floor, gasping for air and swearing guttural obscenities. Lightning and Fang both looked to see Teh'Han as he stood there, blood on the steel gauntlet covering his hand. And their weapons still strapped to his back.

Jumping over the vampire he went to them.

"Not a moment too soon, old man." Fang gratefully took her spear from him.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be watching the ship with Hope." Lightning half scolded him, but made no denial of the gesture when he passed her gunblade to her.

"You're welcome." he grumbled.

"Why did you come back? You had a job to do." She didn't like it when things

"I thought you could use the extra hand." Seeing as he only had one to spare. Sorry, bad joke on my part. "Clearly you did."

"_GODS DAMN YOU ALL_!" Tezzim howled. He had somehow made it to his knees, now more filled with piss and vinegar than ever before. "I will tear you apart!"

"Lord Tezzim!"

The three turned, seeing something they had previously expected but forgotten.

"Kill them, Affir! Not _one_ of them leaves this corridor!"

Hassan's bondsman had arrived, meaning to look in on Kasa as per his charge's orders. Instead he had found this...this trespass. And he had helped Amala to her feet.

"_Teh'khet Oae_," Fang swore under her breath, turning to face the other vampires, the blades of her lance unfolding. "Now what?"

"You take one, I'll take the other," Han answered as he bent his knees, his claws poised.

"I've got the broad on the right, then." she said, suddenly sounding somewhat excited. "Can you handle lord asshole, sunshine?"

Oh sure, she thought, leave me the one already half dead. Or was he? Somehow he was now standing, seeming more than able to fight. And so full of rage that his slitted eyes appeared to glow.

Sazh was not a man who enjoyed long-winded conversations with folks he barely knew. Engagements that involved a close friend and a beer or two were more his idea of a good time. Although the bloodchief and his small multitude of guests seemed like nice enough people, he didn't know a damn one of them from the other. Still, he did his best to play nice and show courtesy to his gracious host.

Just like Raul said he would, Hassan had been chewing his ear to a bloody nub since they greeted one another after his arrival to the party.

"So, there's more people just like you? There's actually a race of you?"

"Yes." Sazh nodded, slightly embarrassed by Hassan's wonder.

"And you're born this way? You don't start off looking different and grow into it?"

"No, we don't"

"You'll have to forgive me if I seem rude, its just," the bloodchief shook his head, "you're unusual and I am very curious."

"It's no problem. You're strange to me too."

"It's a shame my wife couldn't be here to meet you, she would've been delighted."

"Is she all right?"

"Oh yes, just very tired. She recently gave birth to our first child, did I tell you?"

"No, but congratulations."

"Do you have any children?"

"Just one, my son."

"What a coincidence!" Hassan seemed to light up. "So...I'm to assume he looks just like you?"

"He does." Sazh almost laughed.

"That is just so..._fascinating_." the vampire gushed, smiling. But the smile abruptly fell. His expression flattened, and Sazh felt himself tense. Something wasn't right, and the sensation slowly crept up his back.

Hassan's face creased slightly, concern thinning his eyes. Something...a strange smell wafted through the air, faint yet unmistakeable. It was metallic, almost tasted of raw copper. Like blood.

The music in the pavilion faded as more and more of the guests gave pause, their noses lifted to the scent. Bard looked around, his eyes wide and brows lifted. What was happening?

Raul and Francisco had picked up on it too, having stopped mid-performance. It was blood, no doubt about it. But who's, and what had happened that they would shed enough to draw as much attention as it had? Them and Bard and Sazh began to gravitate towards one another, meeting near the center of the pavilion.

"What's goin' on?" Bard whispered warily, slowly, carefully sliding his violin in the pack on his back.

"Nothing good." Raul said.

"Should we be ready to run?" Sazh wondered over his shoulder, hoping for the answer he was already feeling.

"Most definitely."

Then, to the sharp recoil of any non-vampires present, a horrible sound ripped through the empty midnight air. A banshee-like wail that screeched and clawed at the ears. It was erupting from the manor. This noise, it must have been something fairly common as other vampires began to mimic it. One by one more voices vaulted to echo through the night. It sounded desperate, alarming, like a cry for help or in warning.

It was a summoning for the Nighthawks. And they heard it well.

Shadows darted out of thin air, seemingly out of nothingness as the last of the shrill cries ceased. In silence a horde of them gathered, nearly a dozen surrounding the pavilion, maybe a dozen more continuing on towards the manor. They had gone, so far, unseen, but everyone knew they were there. Dots of crimson outside of the torch light began to flicker, blinking with black slits fluxing.

"Raul," Francisco swallowed. "Any ideas?"

"We can't just walk out of here, not with them watching." Raul was at a loss, only able to state the obvious. Though his mind whirred with possible plans.

"I was really hopin' I wasn't gonna die here." Bard whimpered.

"Why are they staying out of sight?" Sazh found that odd.

"Nighthawks have very sensitive eyes, light this bright may be too much for them." Raul replied.

"That so? What about you two?"

"We're fine in broad daylight, though I can only take it for so long."

Sazh reached into his coat, and towards one of the guns strapped to his thighs. No one knew exactly what they were, hadn't assumed they were weapons, so no one bothered to ask him about them. Maybe they assumed they were just decoration.

"What is that?" Bard caught a glimpse of what he was doing, seeing him shove a large shell into the chamber.

"Just get ready to run." Sazh instructed, sounding somewhat uncertain of what he was about to do. He looked up the the stained glass dome above him. Then he lifted the gun and pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to stop when Lightning put the blade through Tezzim's skull. For the last few moments, it had felt like forever, the vampire had been blinking in and out of sight to confuse her. As the others handled the two bondsmen, Lightning had been doing her utmost to keep track of him, not allowing him to catch her off guard by reappearing in a blind spot. She knew it was his intent. He couldn't physically overpower her in his current state, but if he was just quick enough he could pick her off.

After only a few short moments of his coming and going through the black smoke, she discovered his pattern. She let her instincts take control. She waited, and waited, blade poised just so against her shoulder. Then she watched carefully, following the remnants of his presence with her eyes until...

_Pwoof_!

Lightning twisted away, all the while using the torque of the motion to force the blade towards the vampire. He had his mouth open, which was a rather terrible mistake. Instead of falling upon the soft flesh at the human's throat, he swallowed steel. The momentum of his lunge forced the weapon straight through, into the back of his throat and out the other side. He choked, reaching for the blade with hesitant and frantic hands. His eyes rolled back, losing their furious sheen, and blood was gushing over his split tongue. He hit his knees and then slumped onto his side, sliding from the blade.

Everything just stopped. The bondsmen froze where they stood, mortified. Amala was the first to open her mouth and release that terrible cry, that wail of warning to the Nighthawks. Affir was the second, and from there it only grew. It was far too late when the vampires were made to stop, Han hitting Affir in the face hard enough for teeth to shatter. Fang shoved Amala hard against one of the columns, hearing something crack as she went still on the floor.

Still it was just too late.

The Nighthawks were already upon them.

Shadows in the corridor that hadn't been there before were lurking in the windows and just within the darkness of the columns. A dozen of them, vermillion eyes gleaming. The three of them exchanged anxious glances. Now what were they to do? There were so many!

The only thing there was to do.

Run.

And that was when they saw the flare, a great orange glow resonating through the open windows of the manor's corridor. The Nighthawks shied, hissed and screeched at the intense light rising up from the now shattered ceiling of the nearby pavilion.

"We must move; _now_!" Han shouted, taking the initiative. With the steel claws he cut down the Nighthawk nearest to him, raking the weapon downward over the vampire's face. Then he gripped the hatchet at his belt and hurled it forward as he started to run down the corridor. One of the others had begun its attack unheard, thinking to catch Lightning off guard, and paying for it with a new hole in its chest. He retrieved the weapon as the three of them began their hasty retreat.

Fang only paused a split second, knowing she had just that, and knelt down, cutting away a sizable lock of Tezzim's hair. Clutching it in her fist she stood, spitting in his face with a curse upon his name before she turned tail and ran.

"Easy, easy, lower your side," Dash directed. They were this close to getting the priceless painting off of the wall.

"Damn thing is heavy," Helm grumbled, straining. "This had better be worth it."

"It will be, my good fellow, it will be. Blasted mounting hook is caught."

Then the cries rattled through the manor, echoing doubly through the dinning hall where the painting was kept. The two nearly dropped it.

"Oh dear," Dash gasped. "I think we should be moving on."

"The hell? This was your idea! And we've got it in our hands!"

"That was a summons for the hawks! We've got the vacate before they see us! Let's go!"

"You got me into this damnable corset for nothing!" Helm roared as he ran for his life, only after nearly breaking his ankle due to the unsteady heels that did little to stabilize his jump from the mantle. "Damn you, Dash!"

"Later! If we get out of this alive, you can scold me all you want. Now hike up that skirt and run!"

Han had to wonder how they had ever made it out of the manor, much less across the gate and into the public area of the district. Just as Raul predicted there was a crowd, a frantic gathering of hundreds of confused and befuddled by what was going on. Who had summoned the Nighthawks, why, what had happened? These were the most prevalent questions on everyone's mind. All the while they were running, the three of them kept sharp eyes out for their other companions as well as those out to stop them.

They ducked through the throngs, keeping a steady pace. Even over the commotion, they could almost hear the Nighthawks above them, leaping from roof to roof, disappearing and reappearing in the shadows to catch them. There was no blending in for them either. All three of them had traces of dead vampires on them, blood had touched them, they would not be overlooked by any stretch of the imagination. The Nighthawks weren't even actively _looking_ for them, they were just keeping their nostrils flared.

Fang, Lightning, and Han weren't that far behind the others, as they had only just managed to slip out of the pavilion mere minutes before they were free of the manor. Gunshots were ringing through the air, scattering crowds and warding away bondsmen who simply didn't know what to make of the noise. Their keen ears couldn't take it. This gave Lightning incentive to do the same, hoping to draw on that same weakness. Fang was making her own way as well, using her lance as a vault to pass over especially thick flocks of panicked denizens.

It was near Saints Plaza that Han found himself pausing, distracted by a sound unlike anything he had heard before. First he looked up, seeing no hawks, and then around to see not a bondsman at all, only then did he search for the source sound. Near the roots of Kalitas' massive statue, one of the large oil basins had been toppled over, still alight. The scream had come from the unfortunate satyr that had been shoved into it, the burning oil splashing across his leg. Twisting and writhing he tried to put out the flames.

Bard felt a strong hand grip his arm as he lay there and hoist him up, pain shooting up his right side.

"Hold on to me, or I will leave you where you drop," Han told him, situating Bard against his back, his arms around his neck. How could he argue? He held on tight, biting his lip against the scalding stretch of scorched skin.

Raul had managed himself out to the front of the pack, Francisco and Sazh only paces behind him. Already they were closing on the gate, massive and sealed tight. He and Francisco could easily jump it, but that left all of the others behind. There had to be a way to get it open, and quickly. He disappeared in a veil of black smoke, suddenly, to the confusion of his partner and others following just behind him. Francisco looked around frantically for where he might reappear.

There was a guardhouse situated at the foot of the wall, just beside the gate, where the mechanism that opened and sealed the barrier was kept under constant watch. This is where Raul materialized, using a twist of magic, as a great star burst of light. What vampires were guarding the mechanism that night fled immediately, hands over their eyes and blindly stumbling through the only door. Once the light faded, allowing him to see, Raul yanked the lever from one position to the other, listening as the locks across the gate twisted open with a loud _creeeeak-ka-thunk_! He then slipped from the guardhouse, quickly throwing himself against the heavy wood and steel doors to try and force them open. For one reason or another, the hinges didn't want to cooperate right away.

Somehow, by some good twist of fate, all of them made it out of the city gate, with Han and Bard bringing up the rear. The seven of them fled out into the open darkness, knowing that they couldn't slow down even now. Bondsman and Nighthawks were still pressing them, still howling and crying for blood. They had to reach the airship and get it off the ground, and even then they weren't home free. Not until dawn.

The airship's engines were primed and running, Hope waiting in the pilot's chair, Vanille resting and wrapped in a blanket in the chair beside him. Shilo was in the cargo bay, port still open as he searched the dark landscape for a sign of the others. His ears could hear the great teeming masses within the walls from here, knew for sure something had happened once he saw the vermillion glow of the flare in the sky. He prayed that all of them would make it back.

The first of them he saw were the vampire innkeepers, their eyes shimmering in the dark before he actually saw them. The two of them hurried aboard, Shilo still looking out for anyone else. Sazh came next, then Lightning and Fang.

"Where is Han?" he asked. He thought he had counted wrong. "And Bard?"

"I could've sword he was right behind me." Fang said, panting. "Didn't see nanny, though."

"We lost him somewhere around the plaza." Raul said.

"Then we will wait." The Leonin said firmly.

"We can't wait, we've got at least two dozen blood suckers after us. We don't have the time!" Lightning protested.

"Sweet Christ!"

Everyone jumped at Hope's cry from the cockpit, and ran to him. They didn't even see him out of the chair, weapons in hand, all they saw were the three, count 'em_ three_ Nighthawks that had seemingly plastered themselves to the outside of the glass. They peered inside, crimsons eyes aglitter with light. Shilo immediately turned about and went back to the cargo hold, thinking they could already be inside. One of the hawks hissed, his jaws open in a furious snarl, and began to beat on the glass. Two heavy blows with its fist and it began to crack.

"We've got to get this thing off the ground!" Francisco shouted, frantic.

"What about Han?" Fang cut her eyes to him. "Him and Bard are still out there."

"We can't wait for him!" Lightning snapped. "Get this crate airborne!" then she ducked out to help Shilo, hearing the Leonin snarl and the crash of heavy bodies against the steel hull. Fang followed her as well. Sazh and the two vampires stayed, thinking themselves helpful.

"You can fly this thing, can't you, kid?" Sazh raised his guns to the glass, watching as the cracks grew and split, spider-webbing.

"Well enough," Hope slid back into the pilot's seat, flipping an assortment of switches before grabbing the yoke. The engines roared. Sazh then reached over him, flipping one more. Outside the ship was a great burst of bright, white light. The Nighthawks reacted, some of them fleeing and the others cringing with shrill cries as the flood lights came to life.

"That'll keep 'em off us a little at least." He nodded.

Though a few of the hardcore hunters, otherwise known as the imperially pissed, stayed true to the task and continued to beat the glass in.

"Raul,"

"Yes Francisco?"

"I feel we're going to end up dying here."

"That's all well and good, love. At least we'll die together." and he only smiled to his partner.

All the while, among the noisy chaos, Vanille had come out her delicate sleep to what was happening around her. It was like waking to a nightmare, and she shrank in silent terror, eyes wide and body tightening as if it could save her.

Teh'Han ran as fast as he could, even faster than he thought he was able. His strides were long, sure, his only arm swinging in great sweeping motions in compensation for being the only one to help carry him forward. Even with the satyr fastened to his back he thought he was making good time, though he had fallen behind a ways. His chest heaved, his body thrummed with hot fatigue and sweat poured across his body. He had to reach that damnable ship, he could see it, its bright lights a beacon in the distance. He had to get there, he was so close!

"You should've just left me," Bard grunted, the pain in his body still fresh. "Just drop me,"

"Hush, fool, or I will!"

Steadily he drew closer, his eyes mindful of his steps as well as anything moving around him. He was almost surprised not a single hawk or bondsman had attempted to stop him. But then he realized why. Once he was close enough to see he could make out the shades and forms of nearly a dozen vampires, all of them swarming around the airship.

Han felt his stomach twist when he saw the airship begin to move. Were they going to leave him? He pushed all the harder, ran that much faster. He could make it, he _would make it_!

The others were fighting tooth and nail aboard the craft as it begin to lift from the ground, their footing unstable for a split second. Nighthawks and bondsman had made their way inside, not that it was all that difficult. The floodlights had managed to fend off a greater portion of them. Then again, whenever one had been fought off, or even killed, it seemed like another would take its place, appearing out of nowhere with fangs revealed and claws poised, eyes full of bloodthirsty fury. Even Valkyrie had killed one, caving in their skull with a hard kick, but that failed to really fall in their favor. They just. Kept. Coming.

The airship lurched forward, the whole lot of them stumbling at the sudden movement. Several vampires fell, out of the craft, but even that couldn't stop them.

Han was only inches away, chasing the now moving airship with his only arm outstretched.

"You're going to have to jump," Han shouted over his shoulder.

"I...I cannae," Bard was terrified and still in so much pain.

"You_ have_ to! I can't throw you!" But the satyr just wouldn't move. "Gods be damned."

With the curse he gave one last effort, one great push to somehow propel himself and the goat man forward, latching the claws into the still extended ramp of the craft. Steel bit into steel and tendons pulled with weight too heavy as the craft began to ascend.

"For gods' sake, climb!" He demanded. His shoulder simply couldn't take this strain for very long.

Somehow Bard found it in him to move. His limbs were tight and shaking, his motions jerking and slow. Han thought if he had a spare hand he would shove the stubborn man along.

"Someone help him!" He shouted at last, praying someone would hear him.

Bard forced himself to open his eyes in spite of his resounding fear, focusing. He spotted Shilo's tail swishing just in reach as the Leonin fought with a Nighthawk at his throat. Without taking the time to ask, Bard stretched out his hand and grabbed it, pulling. Shilo hurled the vampire out of the open hatch, twisting hard to see what was tugging on him.

"There you are! Come along," and Shilo pulled him up. "I've got you, _ae _mot!"

Han was almost relieved, glad to see that massive paw reaching for him, but the lion couldn't grab him, tackled by an exceptionally large bondsman from the side. Han could feel himself start to panic, his grip weakening as steel creaked and bowed with the pull of his weight. He tried to pull himself up, managing his chin onto the deck. If he could just swing his leg up high enough...

Han bent sharply at the waist, working his body back and forth until he could throw himself up to relative safety. No dice. The airship was picking up speed, the wind pulling him back and hindering him more than helping him. Metal creaked again, his body jerked downward. He kept trying, actually working up the strength to get his entire arm up on the deck, pulling a part of his torso up with it. Quickly he reached out, planting the claws into another plate of metal. Just a little further...

Something yanked on his legs, something heavy. His claws ripped deep tracks in the paneling as he was ripped towards the edge of the deck. Once again dangling from his hand he looked down, seeing not one, but _two_ Nighthawks hanging from either of his legs. Their claws tore into his calves, his thighs, and they bit his ankles, fangs sinking deep.

The airship pitched again, a sudden lurch to one side. Vampires had penetrated the glass at last, crawling without a scratch through the jagged opening. Hope had his hands full, unable to effectively defend himself lest he let go of the yoke. All of his faith rested on Sazh and Raul. Francisco had taken Vanille and had tucked themselves somewhere out of sight. Gunshots rang through the ship, there were fireballs flying everywhere as Raul conjured, but even that couldn't stop one bondsman from rising up behind Hope and gabbing him. He had no choice but to let go as the vampire bit him hard on the shoulder. Out of sheer reflex he started to punch the brute in the temple, but the blood sucker refused to release him until the back of his head exploded with a bullet of Sazh's courtesy. From there he went right back to the yoke, pulling back on it hard to get the ship aloft again, just before it struck the desert below.

Now there were but a few vampires left in the cargo bay, perhaps five of the original dozen or more. There was blood everywhere, enough to make the deck slick and unreliable to stand on. One by one the vampires dropped, split in twain or with a bullet in their head. Some even sliced open by ripping Leonin claws. Lightning pulled her sword free of the last vamp living, the edge scraping bone, singing as it drew free of the flesh and the body collapsed to the deck.

With the last of them dead, even the cockpit quiet of their shrieking, Lightning looked about as she tried to catch her breath. Taking a quick head count, she found everyone still standing; herself, Fang, Shilo, Valkyrie...and Bard cowered in the corner. His arms covered his head and somehow he had wedged his torso between his knees. How on earth did he get here? She hadn't seen him until just now, and he was unaccounted for before. She checked the deck again, this time spotting the hand gripping for dear life to the edge. She dropped her gunblade and ran for it.

Han could feel his grip starting to waver, he couldn't take it anymore. His muscles were beginning to fail. One vampire still clung to him, tearing at him and weighing him down.

_Gods, hear me; I don't pray to you for much, but just don't let me fall. Please, just don't let me fall..._

There was the creaking again, and now all he had were his fingertips keeping him in place. He grit his teeth against the sharp pain shooting through his arm and back.

The Nighthawk could sense his weakness, could taste it in the blood he had sampled, and was driven by instinct to exploit it. The vampire let go of him for a split second only to pull himself up and hook his talons into his shoulder blades. That was enough, the jerk of the hawk's returning weight yanked his grip free. Yet, even as he slipped, he reached for the edge of the deck, desperate, futile. Doubly so as he fell away.

And then there was Lightning, reaching for him.

"Han!"

But she could not catch him.

Their fingertips just brushed together as she closed her hand, expecting to grip him but only grasping empty air. She had leaped to the deck, sliding, thinking she would just be able to catch him as she stretched as far as her body would allow. But it wasn't enough, and she watched, stricken, as he fell to the now open grasslands below. He disappeared in the darkness, now invisible as the airship continued on, starting over Dreadwood in a matter of seconds. Light lay there for several seconds, like her thought process had suddenly stopped, still reaching out with fist clenched. Then she rose to her hands and knees, lingering there but a moment longer before she found it in her to stand up. Shilo came to stand beside her after a moment.

The look on her face puzzled the Leonin, perhaps because she had shown so little emotion since they had met. Any expression other than unreadable would've been surprising for him. But it wasn't just that. She looked guilty. He put his furry paw on her shoulder.

"You tried." Shilo had seen what she had attempted, but failed to do.

Lightning turned to look at him, saw his mane and half his face stained dark with blood. "But it wasn't good enough." was her reply.

"It isn't always going to be." he sighed.

Now it was Lightning who was confused. "He was your friend...don't you care?"

"Don't mistake me, I am saddened, though I am also hopeful. Even the gods haven't found a way to kill him yet, so I will not count him gone."

"The fall probably did it." she looked away again, down to the landscape below as it passed in a blur. At the speed the airship had been going, at this altitude, the impact would've surely been fatal.

"Maybe, maybe," he nodded. "But I have a good feeling...he can do nothing if not survive." and then he stepped away, tired and wanting to rest a while.

Lightning lingered still, until she was unable to stand it anymore. She went to the edge of the opening, punching the button meant to close the hatch from the inside, refusing to watch it close.

The flight back to Archylte was a quiet one, with the small exception of Lightning hailing the Resource Center to let Bradley know they were finally on their way home. He had sounded relieved, that is, until she asked him to get a hold of a doctor, that there would be wounded. Before he had a chance to ask what had happened, though, she had hung up. After that she sat down with the others, here and there on the floor of the cockpit, huddled together with those that remained. She didn't remember drifting off to sleep during the hour long flight back.

Han fell, the air cold across his sweating, pain heated body. The Nighthawk had released him and disappeared, letting him plummet alone through the night air.

_To hell with the gods and the joke book you rode in on._

The blasphemy echoed in his mind beside the crippling terror. He couldn't see the ground, it was too dark, and that certainly didn't help. He was convinced he was going to hit it and die right that second, or worse; he would strike the earth, shattered from head to toe, but still alive to feel every last fracture, lingering in an unheard of world of pain until the vampires found him. That would be just his bad luck.

However, that wasn't the case.

He had fallen at an angle, and he didn't so much hit the ground as he skipped across it like a stone. He bounced, rolled, and eventually came to a sudden stop as his torso struck the riverbank. It hurt terribly, he could feel it in his ribs, his knees, his back, and the plate of armor covering his empty shoulder had been somehow ripped away, leaving the nub vulnerable to the heavy thrashing and bashing of his impact. His entire body radiated with pain. And yet, nothing felt to be broken. Han lay still for just a moment, his head and shoulders under the river's current.

Three Nighthawks had made it out this far, this stretch of grassland between Dreadwood and the Sepulcher. And more were on there way. The scent of the humans was still fresh in the air, and they had followed it all the way out here. One of them had been left behind. They stalked through the darkness towards where he lay in the river. He was going to pay, and then so would the others once they were found. But _he_ would be the first.

One of them loomed over him, sniffing, half thinking the mortal already dead. He didn't _smell_ dead, but he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He prodded the body with on claw, receiving no reaction. The vampire thought to lean over him, try and decipher a face beneath the water.

Han could feel the vampire there above him. He was holding his breath, eyes shut until the right moment. Either he would gather the courage to fight back, or the Nighthawks would retreat thinking him dead. The latter condition did not happen, so he had no choice but to take the first one. He waited, clenched his jaw, and then opened his eyes.

With a hard twist of his body, water splashing upward, he gripped the vampire, his steely grip about the hawk's face. He shoved him under the water, squeezing with all the strength he could muster until he felt the bones give under the pressure. A phantasmal redness started to darken the water, blood carried downstream with the current.

Han climbed out of the river, up the bank, only to be greeted by another Nighthawk. It looked down at its fallen brother and grew enraged, its crimson eyes glowing with enough intensity to cast the light on him. Water dripped from him, mixing with his own blood and that of the vampire's as it formed in puddles in the grass beneath him. Then there was another hawk behind him, on the farthest bank, that revealed itself with a loud hiss. It's eyes were glowing maniacally as well. And he chanced to see the flickers of many more eyes moving in the darkness towards the north.

But, for the first time, he was not afraid. Uneasy, hopeless, but not afraid. There was no more room in him for it. Instead of recoiling, shrinking in terror, he crouched in the grass, the clawed gauntlet poised as he glared with determination at his only visible foe. He was going to fight.

If nothing else, his time with the Leonin had taught him that much.

Fight to the death, be it his or theirs.

Author's Note: I belted this one out pretty fast. Sorry if Tezzim's death was a little anti-climactic, but you have to remember that the story isn't over yet. Not by a long shot. I have a great deal more to share with the lot of you, though, unfortunately, most of it will be nonsensical drama and drippy-sappy romance. Most likely anyhow. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Also, check out a preview of another fanfiction idea I've been brewing on. It's an AU FFXIII fic. Just give it a gander at my deviantart. luckyfirerabbit. deviantart. com


	32. Chapter XXXI

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty-One**

The night had yet to end, but dawn was perhaps a few hours away. Hassan stood in the corridor of his manor, the one smeared with his brother's blood, baffled and incredibly dismayed. How could this have happened? Who would've done this? And in his own home...

And that didn't even take into account the state his brother's remains were in. Mutilated, defiled, and left in the floor. Whoever had ended his life was, undoubtedly, infuriated with him or something he had done. His bondsman hadn't fared so well either, having attempted to stop the murder and paid for it. Affir had been neutered, so to speak. His fangs had been shattered, broken out of his mouth, leaving him near useless as a vampire. He couldn't even hunt for himself now.

And poor Amala, she was now in despair as well, left without a charge. Bondsmen are chosen at young ages for young vampires, that they might grow up together and form a close connection. One could only imagine the pain coursing through her.

_My dear brother,_ Hassan sighed sadly, _I fear this may have been your own doing._ He had to consider it at least. He couldn't simply ignore how much of a deviant Tezzim had been.

But, aside from his sorrow, the Bloodchief found himself terrified. News had reached him of dead Nighthawks, something he had never even heard rumors of before. Something he refused to believe until he saw the body of one for himself, here in his manor, its face shredded. It mortified him, made his heart skip. He had heard the screams of his citizens echoing through the district at the discovery of even more bodies. Once dawn came the lands outside the wall would be searched, and he feared only more would be found.

Who had done this, and who were they to be able to fell the Nighthawks? Were they demons or, were they as Affir and Amala said, only humans? He chewed on his claws, nervous.

Once the terror stricken screams over the corpses of Nighthawks quieted, the word went up that the magistrate was dead. That he had been murdered. That brought only the lady maestro to Hassan's villa, as none other in the entire city had cared for him as she did. Her eyes had met with the Bloodchief's as she came into the corridor, wide and disbelieving, on the brink of tears.

"It's true," she stammered. Her eyes then fell on her lover's body. "So it's true! By the saints, no!"

Hassan stood there, speechless, watching with so much pity creasing his face as she advanced on the body and fell to her knees beside it, never minding of the blood staining her clothing, wailing. Sabine gathered him against her, his head resting on her chest, and she pressed her face into his hair. She could feel her dreams dying, all of her hopes shattering to tiny pieces. Her tears were heavy with grief, dripping onto Tezzim's bloodied, slumber-softened face.

Sabine felt so cheated. All her life she had spent in servitude, be it to an owner or the city as its maestro. But Tezzim, he had treasured her, he had served her in a way no one ever had. He had loved her. Tonight he had promised to give her everything she had ever wanted, he had vowed to make her whole. And now here he was, dead. Her body tightened, wrenching with a keening cry. Her grief was all consuming, profound and severe.

Hassan could feel his heart breaking for her. "I am so sorry, Lady Sinclaire. I understand you and my brother were close colleagues."

"He was going to turn me...s-so we might be married," she managed, forcing the words out through the crying.

Hassan's breath hitched. He had no idea. "By the saints...I...I'm afraid I can only imagine what you must be feeling."

Yes, he could only imagine. He had never known even a fraction of what was going through her. Not only was she now angry, but she felt so alone.

"What can I do?"

Nothing, she only wanted one thing. Then again... "Make them pay!" she cried. "Whoever did this, make them pay!"

He had the power, he even had the lawful right, but what could he do? He didn't know who was responsible, and even if he did, he had no idea where they had gone. Only Nighthawks would be able to find them now.

Kasa appeared at the far end of the corridor as he pondered the notion, gracefully but quickly making her way towards her husband with a sleeping Haddai cradled against her. She had smelled the blood some time ago, but had not the courage to move until she was quite certain the intruders had left the manor. She couldn't risk that..._man_ coming back for her or the baby.

She went to her husband, finding him relieved to see her and his son well. He embraced them both.

"You are all right, my love?"

"Yes, husband, the two of us."

"I am glad. After seeing...I feared the worst." his gaze eased away from her for a moment. "What should I do?"

Kasa looked him right in the eyes, serious as a heart attack. "Nothing."

His face twisted with confusion. "What?"

"We cannot pursue them, whoever they are." she elaborated. "It will put us in danger."

"What do you mean?"

Kasa tried to explain what happened in her room, to tell him about the man she had seen only after he had come lethally close to their child.

"I had not heard him at all, Hassan. I hadn't even smelled him." her eyes were still severe. "I most certainly do not wish to test his word."

"I agree." he had little other choice, but sounded disappointed that he was forced to relent. "But something must be done."

"And it can be done by others. The hawks will hunt them with or without your permission, it is their duty. We do not need to get any further involved, all things considered."

Hassan let his thoughts play out quietly, still chewing on his claws. As usual, his wife was right, although he did not like the idea of having to tell that to Sabine. She was going through enough as it is, and learning that he would not act on such a grievance against him would most likely drive her mad. Still, she would have to know.

When he delivered his decision, Sabine simply looked at him, disgusted. She didn't say a word, but she didn't have to. Her stabbing gaze ripped into him, ripped through him, even as she turned away and continued to mourn over his brother's body.

"I _am_ sorry, my lady, I feel your grief. But I must look out for my family that remains."

"_To hell with you then_!" she screamed, clutching his body closer. "To hell with the lot of you!"

Normally Hassan would take offense to such language, but considering the circumstances, he could find pardon for her.

"If _you_ will not find justice for him, _I will_!" She would go with the Nighthawks, hunt down every last one of those that were here, and she would exact her bitter vengeance.

Hassan had an idea of what she intended to do, and understood. "I will not try to stop you," he shook his head, "but neither will I wish you good fortune. You do what you must." and turned away from her, walking back down the corridor with his wife.

"What am I to do, lord bloodchief?" Amala asked as she still knelt on the floor, where she had been for a long while.

"I cannot bid you do anything, bondswoman. As far as I see it, you are free to do as you wish. Perhaps you wish to stay with us?"

"No, my lord," she admitted after a moment.

"Very well." and he went on. "Come, Affir, let us get you to the doctor."

Amala stood after Hassan had gone, leaving but she, Sabine, and a litter of bodies in the hallway. She went to the mortal who wept over her late charge, looking down on her.

"I will go with you. I have no purpose otherwise."

Sabine did not answer, which the vampire took to as acceptance of her offer.

The maestro only stayed so much longer, unable to take the sight of his body after a time of weeping. But she did not leave suddenly, not before pressing her palm into the pool of his blood. With a thick coating of it on her hand, she pressed it into her sari. She let it seep in, set in a stain, declaring without a word a most egregious vendetta.

_(II)_

The night had been so long.

And our party could feel every hell bent minute creeping through aching muscles, throbbing wounds, and the throws of sleep that beckoned as the airship continued on its way. It was still dark when they landed at the settlement, as it was only an hour or so after midnight. The gentle impact of the landing jarred awake those who had let weariness take them, heads turning to and fro with groggy puzzlement. One by one everyone stood up, stretching and wincing all the while. Shilo let out a great yawn that was mixed with a growl.

Some needed help to disembark, such as Bard who would have to lean on someone in order to walk. And since the vampires had relented their attack Vanille had been fast asleep. Fang found the strength to carry her, in spite of her fatigue. The others stepped off the ship in turn, weary, grumbling. Lightning was the last, and stood there for a moment looking out, Valkyrie standing beside her.

After two weeks...

Home.

And yet, it didn't feel like it. Something was missing.

All the same she went on, as always. She took the horse to stable with the chocobos, thinking it the best place for her for the time being. From there she went to the center, surely Bradley would want some sort of explanation.

And he did. The clerk looked up as she passed through the doors, surprised enough as it is but even more so when he saw her. Her clothes, or lack thereof, the dye on her skin, it made the man do a double-take.

"Okay, now I've seen everything." he shook his head and sipped at a long cold cup of coffee. His glasses had slid down near the tip of his nose. "There's a lion in here, did you know that? And it talks...it smiled at me."

"I know. And that 'it' is a he."

"Good to know. So," he took a steadying breath, "what's with the paint?"

"Just a disguise."

He nodded. "How went the mission? Did you find who you were looking for?"

"Yes." her answer sounded somewhat distant, and her eyes had yet to meet his, too focused on the floor.

"You all right?" he had just noticed the remnants of blood under her nose, and splashes of it stained on her body.

"Fine, tired. Are they being taken care of?" and she finally looked at him.

"Yeah, doctor was waiting. Maybe you should get checked out yourself. It couldn't hurt."

She didn't answer, but walked on without another word. She left the center and went home.

Lightning found the dwelling empty, thinking briefly that Snow and Serah must have gotten their own place by now. Without even bothering with turning on the lights, she went to the shower, needing desperately to get this damn dye off of her. It was starting to itch. Not to mention her nose was indeed broken. She knew how to fix it herself, having been through it numerous times before, but she was a bleeder.

Once sure she was completely clean she stepped out and reached blindly for the towel that always hung on the wall. She dressed slowly into her lounge clothes, perhaps lost in thought, and then went to bed. Tightly curled beneath the covers, she had trouble sleeping in spite of how tired she was.

The doctor wasn't too sure about giving the Satyr morphine, not knowing what kind of reaction he would have to it, but the poor fellow was in so much pain he had to give it a try. Fortunately it had a form of the desired effect. And when I say a form, I mean it was only slightly different than normal. It made him just a tad delirious, and he giggled a little. Bard kept referring to the doctor as "mum".

His burns were not terribly severe, but numerous. Blotches of bald, damaged flesh went as low as his ankle and as high as the middle of his thigh. There were even minor blisters on his hands from when he had tried to put out the flames. Hair around the wounds had become stuccoed with blood and oil, and had to be cut away before the doctor could treat them.

"Lookit' that, 'bout time I got a trimmin'. Gettin' a wee bit shaggy. That innae no good." he was just babbling on, lingering somewhere between lucid and asleep as he lay in the bed. "Thankee' , mum."

Once he was tended to, comfortable, the doctor went on to the next patient he considered most in need. Just by looking at Vanille he could tell she was desperate for his attention. Thankfully the bleeding had been stopped, but her blood pressure was still so low. Once the crucial matter of her blood type had been resolved, it was a relatively simple fix of an IV drip.

"Just give it a few hours and she should be fine." the doctor said, rubbing his hands. "Who's next?"

And the night went on this way, the doctor seeing each one in turn. Fang had needed stitches, her skin gashed just at the hairline on her forehead. She had head-butt a vampire in the face, not meaning to strike his mouth. The blood-sucker's teeth had ripped right through just as they shattered. Shilo refused any attention, convinced he didn't need it. In reality he didn't, only suffering a few bruises and cuts that were hidden by his fur. Hope needed a compression bandage on his shoulder after a healthy helping of an antiseptic was smeared on the bite marks. Sazh had a dark purple bruise on his cheek from when the airship had pitched and he kissed a bulk head.

Francisco and Raul, however, were unscathed. The doctor paused long enough just to look them over, unsure what to make of them. Then he left.

"Have Bradley call me if anyone needs anything." and then he was gone.

It was quiet for a long moment, Bard's light snoring the only sound.

"I'm going to bed. I'm too old for this crap." Sazh rubbed the back of this neck. His head felt like it was stuck on vibrate and all he wanted to do was recline the pilot's chair back on the ship and sleep. Just a few hours. Then, come morning, he could go home. Everyone bid him good night and watched him leave. Then it was quiet again. Shilo moved, once leaning against the heavy aluminum wall and now standing, and went to Vanille's bed. Carefully he pulled himself into it, curling up behind her. He saw Fang's face, saw the warning in it.

"She needs to stay warm. It will help." and he pulled the human girl close to him. He started to purr, sleep finally starting in on him.

Fang relaxed. She knew she could trust the Leonin. After a moment she nodded and shrugged. "I feel like crap."

"Same here." Hope sat beside her on the floor, and scratched at the bandage on his shoulder. "Sleep sounds like a good idea."

"Mmm-hmm." Fang lounged back against the wall, her eyes closed.

"Where's Lightning?"

Fang's brow furrowed, though she didn't move otherwise. "Dunno, I didn't see her get off the ship. Maybe she just went home."

"Maybe." Hope was quiet for a moment, maybe thinking. "Teh'Han didn't make it back."

"No."

"What happened?"

"He fell. Just barely saw it for myself. Light tried to get to him but...it was too late." Fang felt her chest tighten at the thought of her tribal brother. What a damn shame, and after everything he did to get them so far. All of the fear and pain he faced to help them...it had been for nothing.

She shrugged again. "The gods are cruel bastards sometimes."

Hope thought about it a moment, accepted it, and quietly nodded.

_(III)_

The snarls of enraged Nighthawks, the splash of blood on grass, the rush of running water, and the screaming of crows echoed in his head. Flashes of memories, old and new, recent and long since gone, disappeared and reappeared behind his closed lids.

Then came the pain.

It radiated through him, throbbing from head to toe as awareness crept back in. With his eyes screwed shut he twisted, rolling onto his stomach, his ribs pinching and pulling in protest. He lay still, hoping the pain would ease, but it didn't. So, for the moment, he was content to just lay there, wet grass pressing against his cheek.

_Kaw...Kaw...Ka-kaw_

Damn crows just won't be quiet.

He heard faint footsteps near him, steady ones, slow and almost contemplative.

_Ka-kaw Ka-kaw Ka-kaw_

Good gods, just shut up. He grumbled, a spasm in his back pulling on his bruised ribs again. There were those steps, now closer, but just as slow.

_Kweh_

A sound he actually recognized, even welcomed. He chanced to open one eye, the light of dawn stinging. All he could see at first was a yellow blur, and he heard the gentle warbling. He rubbed his eyes and then they cleared, allowing him to see the inquisitive face of a chocobo staring at him.

Teh'Han then found it in him to rise to his knees, his body fighting him the entire time. He looked around, seeing he was still where he last remembered being, that green span between the Sepulcher and Dreadwood. Then he saw the bodies of vampires strewn about him. Those, and the dozens if not hundreds of corpses of countless crows.

"What in the gods' names," he marveled. What had happened? Some of the bodies, he was quite sure, had been of his own doing, but not the others. There were some that had clearly been work of the crows, with eyes missing and chunks of flesh picked out of them.

Han didn't know what to make of it, suddenly having a very bad feeling. Typically the crows had been heralds of his misfortune, yet now they looked to have been his saviors. He honestly couldn't remember what happened last night. He remembered falling, hitting the river like a box of rocks, being surrounded by Nighthawks...and Lightning's face as she reached for him.

She had been afraid.

Lightning had feared for him. And the first time she had ever said his name had been out of wild anxiety.

That made about as much sense as the crows right now. And nothing, not a lick of any of this, explained what the chocobo was doing here...and with a saddle on its back? Wait a minute...it must have been one that had disappeared after the flight from Dreadwood.

What oddly good luck.

Well, he resigned, at least he was alive, and now he also had a means of making it home again. Something he needed to do while the sun was still up, before dark when the hawks would begin the hunt anew.

With joints hurting, ribs pinching, he pulled himself onto the chocobo's back. It was only then that he became aware of where that damnable kaw-ing had come from. A large raven was perched atop the other bird's head. It was Raul's pet, Kibo.

"Perhaps you brought them." anything was possible, really. The bird just stared back at him. "I'll just say thank you and be done with it."

And he kicked the chocobo to get him moving, praying _Ak_ would be a little more forgiving this time as he crossed into Dreadwood.

_(IV)_

Sabine could still smell him in her apartment at the conservatory, feel his lingering presence there, and it tore at her. It freshened her still livid misery and drew new tears from her bloodshot eyes. As dawn broke she collapsed on the bed, finding remnants of him there in the sheets and pillows. For hours she lay there, fighting back the ripping cries that wished to emerge. She simply wished to lay there for a time and think of him. Remember him and the joy he had brought her.

She clutched a plump pillow against her chest as she rolled to lay flat on her back, closing her eyes. She could almost hear his voice as her mind went back, back to the good times.

_"Dear girl, I believe you're blind as bat."_ He had said in surprise. _"Come, can't have you filing if you can't see enough to read."_

Tezzim had taken her to the craftsmen that very day. She was still his servant at the time, so you can imagine her surprise at his obvious concern. Her previous owner hadn't given a rat's ass. And she remembered his face as she put on the glasses, now able to see him clearly for the first time. He had been standing behind her, towering as she looked at herself in a mirror. He had been smiling.

_"There we are, much better, isn't it? And they suit you so well."_

She remembered how she had blushed at the compliment. Sabine almost laughed at the memory, a laugh that turned into a pitiful sob. To know she would never see his smile ever again was a knife in her chest. But that didn't stop the memories from flowing. They continued on with or without her.

_"You've been doing such good work for me, I wanted to give you this."_

_ "Sir?"_

_ "Think of it as a birthday present."_

_ "But, my lord...it isn't,"_

_ "You've been with me about a year, so I'll just say it _is._ Now go on, open it."_

It had been her Certificate of Liberty. _"My lord...I...why?"_

_ "What, don't you want it?"_

_ "No, no, my lord, it's just," _she had blushed again, shuffling her feet and nervous.

_"Listen, after you managed to alter that piece with Maestro Avon, I realized right that second you had a tremendous talent. You need to go to school. But you can't do that as a slave, now can you?"_

_ "N-no, my lord."_

Tezzim had been so pleased to see her happy, somehow she knew it. And it was from that moment on that their relationship changed. Though she was no longer his servant, she stayed near him, called him "Lord", but he had begun to call her Miss Sinclaire and regard her with a new air of respect. And that steadily grew over the next few years as he went from owner to mentor, to dear friend, to lover.

_"I wish to congratulate you on your graduation, Miss Sinclaire."_ he had said, smiling once again as they spoke over dinner. He had been requesting time together with her for weeks, and he finally had a reason for such a meeting that she couldn't argue with. _"And with top honors, at that."_

_"Thank you, my lord. You're very kind."_

_ "Maestro Avon has expressed significant interest in keeping you on as an assistant, make you his deputy composer."_

_ "Really? Oh my,"_ she had blushed again. _"I will have to think about it. I'm afraid I've had quite a few things on my mind, recently."_

_ "Such as? Perhaps I can be of some assistance."_

That had shocked her. Another instance of his sincere concern she didn't expect.

_"Mostly personal...petty things, my lord."_

_ "Is that so? Very well then. Perhaps you could share them with me later?"_

_ "P-perhaps."_

They would have many more dinners after that, almost every night over the course of a month. By the end of the time, they had shared their first kiss.

_"You really are quite beautiful...for a mortal."_

Sabine could almost feel the gentle scratch of his claws through her hair, just like they had that night. He had been so careful, near fearful she might break, and took everything so slowly. He had been so _loving_.

_"Permit me...stay with you tonight?"_

She had let him. Tezzim had been her first.

And she had vowed that he would be her last and only. Sabine had given herself exclusively to him, though she knew he had not done the same. At first the fact had made her jealous, naturally, but she found consolation in that _she_ was his only love. He would always, eventually, come back to _her_. And he had.

"My lord," she cried quietly, "I miss you so."

And she began once again to weep. Hours later, exhausted, she fell asleep, still clutching the pillow to her chest as if it was him. She would wake in the late afternoon, seeming fully composed. In her mind she knew she would need all of her wits about her, and soon the Nighthawks would be stirring.

It was time to prepare.

Sabine Sinclaire cast aside the guise of the composer, the workaholic musician, and donned that of the Kes'shian she was deep down inside. In a ritual fashion she gathered what she would need and laid them out in a precise arrangement on the floor beside the bed. Then she went to bathe, to purify herself. She needed to wash her old life away, to release her death grip on it, only then could she do what needed to be done. Sabine Sinclaire needed to disappear.

The people of the desert, in a fashion much similar to the one she was now reproducing, had given her a name she could now embrace, a new identity. This one much more true than the other. This name would bear her vengeance and any curses that her victims might spew in their last moments.

Meh'Hana.

And I will not tell you what it means. I will not disclose her true nature just yet, but rest assured you will learn in time. Until then I will continue to use her old name, as we all know her best.

Once cleansed and dried, she went back into her room, kneeling naked before the array of items she had set out. Leather, steel, and silk. Piece by piece she adorned herself, starting with leather clothing that only covered her breasts, hips and part of her thighs, and her lower legs below the knees. And one leather and stone bracer on her left arm, for protection against the string of her bow when it was released. Otherwise the flesh there would be gleaned right off.

After that, she wound the sari about her in a fashion particular to the Kes'shi. Most Pulsian tribes didn't seem to mind the garment hanging long and dangling about their legs, but not the desert dwellers. It was something they simply didn't do, for what reason I can't disclose. She tucked it in such a way that one end draped over her right shoulder, covering it to the elbow and displaying the now blackened stain of her bloodied hand print. The rest of it she wound around her waist, letting only a few inches drape passed her hips.

There were a few armaments left, which she put in their proper places, some hidden, some in plain view. Her bow and quiver rested comfortable across her chest, against her back. Then one last thing, a leather satchel she secured tightly to her waist, something she had pulled out of the darkened shade in the corner of her room.

Before she left the conservatory Sabine made sure to leave in plain sight her last will and testament, as well as a letter to the deputy maestro containing her instructions for his taking over, both envelopes pinned atop the desk and beneath her glasses. She had no intentions of ever coming back, be she successful or not. Arash was no longer her home. Without Tezzim, all of Pulse would have no place for her.

Amala was waiting for her at the fountain at the foot of the marble stairs, her hand holding a stretch of Phantom's reigns.

"One of the hawks returned from the grasslands." she said. "He said the humans fled south on some sort of flying machine."

"What lies to the south of us?" she asked, her face stern and her tone flat.

"The Sepulcher, Dreadwood...I know not what else."

"We will ride until dark, and wait for the hawks to catch up with us. They will be able to find the trail. Come along."

The two pulled themselves astride the monstrous stallion and rode him hard and fast out of the city. Phantom thundered down Arash's maintained road, passed its end, and into the Sepulcher. It was on the desert's other side that they waited for the hawks, waited among the yet collected bodies of their fallen brethren and corpses of crows. They had already begun to stink, even in the cool of night.

The hawks led them through Dreadwood without trouble, out its other side and into the outer reaches of the Switchback. They had made a great distance before dawn broke once again, forcing the Nighthawks to hide while the sun passed over them. Sabine took this time too to rest, not that she could. Still she laid in the dry grass, staring at the sky, gathering her strength. She was going to need it.

_"I will shed their blood in exchange for yours, my lord... my love. I swear it."_

_(V)_

Vanille didn't want to open her eyes, though she was awake. The coming and going of voices and footsteps, the subtle stirring of a large body beside her, had roused her from sleep, but she refused to open her eyes and see what was there. She was too afraid.

One of the first things she became aware of as consciousness fluttered back was the loathsome weight of that damnable collar. It made her heart sink, leading her to believe that last night had only been a fleeting dream. Fang and the others hadn't really saved her, and if she opened her eyes she would find herself still in the manor. She shuddered, tightening herself into as small a ball as she physically could.

That massive body behind her moved, thick fur brushing against her bare arms. "Hush, little sister," Shilo growled behind her. Was he sleep talking? "No fear...you are home now." The Leonin settled again and resumed the snoring sort of purr, though louder than before his half-coherent mumbling.

Home? Really? It hadn't been a dream after all?

It was only then she had the guts to open her eyes, doing so slowly. Bit by bit the lids parted. Nothing was familiar at first, but that was better than what she had feared she would see. She turned her head, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Shilo's hand settled in her lap, having slid down from its original position draped across her. The Leonin didn't stir at her motions, though his tail swished once.

Vanille took a better look around. First she spotted the satyr in one of the other beds, his leg bandaged and his arms resting above his head as he was still deep in sleep. His mouth was open and when he exhaled he bleated. It was a little laughable. She then took a closer look at the Leonin, curious, though not wishing to wake him and thus paid him little mind. She then looked the other way. Hope was in the next bed, lying on his stomach with the pillow over his head. Thank god, as his snoring, which she could just hear, would've been loud enough to wake the dead without it.

What time was it for everyone to still be asleep, she wondered briefly.

Then Vanille looked down, and there was Fang. She was sitting in a chair beside the bed and was hunched over, arms folded beneath her head as she rested on the edge of the mattress. She was clean of the dye and in clean clothes that Vanille found uncommon. A t-shirt and sweat pants. At first she didn't want to wake her, but couldn't help herself. She needed the touch of someone familiar. She reached out, finding one of Fang's hands and gripping it.

Now she felt safe. Now all of this was real.

Fang took a deep breath, waking slowly. Before lifting her head she stretched, one arm and both legs extending, her back arching like a cat's. Then she turned her head, wild sapphire's emerging from behind sleepy lids.

"You feeling okay?" she asked softly.

Vanille nodded.

"Good." Fang sighed with quiet relief. "Had me worried there for a while."

"What time is it?" Vanille wondered.

"Dunno. Feel like I only dozed off a minute ago." Fang shook her head, straightening. "Might be early still."

Vanille nodded again. "Fang?"

"Hmm?"

"How long has it been this time? I mean," she paused, gathering her thoughts, "It couldn't have been very long, right?"

"About eight years I've gathered. Everyone's still here, if that's what you're wondering." and she smiled.

"Good."

"I thought so too. And, as you can see, we've made some new friends."

"Where did they come from?" Vanille almost laughed.

"Picked them up along the way to come and find you." Fang gripped her hand tighter. "They were a big help."

Vanille's eyes lowered, her head too, and she looked away as if ashamed. What they must have gone through...and she happened to spot the thin pink scar going across Fang's fingers. Her brow knitted as she looked up at her sister, finally seeing the scar on her face, splitting one eyebrow and marring her left cheek.

Her heart broke and tears began to form, and she hadn't even seen the long one down her back, or the "H" shaped one on her side. Vanille touched the mark with her fingertips, tracing it gently as her face tightened, wincing.

"I'm sorry," Vanille began to cry. She couldn't help it. Her chest was tight, pained by it. "This is all my fault."

Fang looked at Vanille, confused, especially when she pressed her knuckles to her forehead. The Pulsian gesture of submission.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed again. "I'm so sorry,"

Fang grimaced, more saddened than angry. Slowly she stood, their hands still joined as she eased beside her on the bed and gathered her into her arms, close and tight against her chest.

"You hush about all this 'being sorry'," she soothed, her free hand petting Vanille's hair. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anyone should be apologizing," Fang took a breath, needing the extra strength it gave, "it should be me."

"But,"

"No. I promised dad I would look after you, and look what's gone and happened. I couldn't keep my promise, and that's hurt everyone. _I'm sorry_." Fang could feel her voice wavering. "I should've been there for you...but I wasn't."

Vanille could feel Fang fighting the tears, feel the shuddering of restrained sobs.

"Can you forgive me, Vanille? Can you _ever_ forgive me?" Fang felt the guilt swelling up in her, unable to swallow it anymore. She had been shoving it down since the beginning, and now that she was forced to face it, she hadn't the strength to stand. "I failed you." she sniffed.

Vanille didn't answer in denial or accusation. She wanted to agree with what Fang said, wanted to blame it all on her. Part of her felt like she could get away with it, pointing a finger, felt like some of the pain would ease if she could just heap it on someone else. But no, she didn't want that. She loved Fang too much, and knew how she must be feeling.

Instead she put her arms around her older sister and held her tight, both of them crying now into one another's shoulder. They just held on to each other and rode it out.

In the middle of the bloodletting, the sisters felt another set of arms settle around them and tighten, gentle, caring. Both of them looked up to see Shilo, his fierce visage soft with sympathy. And then another pair of arms, those of Hope had joined the Leonin. Maybe he didn't entirely know what was going on, considering he had only just woken up, but he was still family, right? He didn't need to understand, not right now.

The four held on to one another, four that would've surely been five if Bard wasn't still tripping on the emsel. Maybe six or seven if Sazh and Lightning were here. You could even push for nine to include Snow and Serah.

Knowing they were there, even if she didn't know some of them well at all, Vanille had a little hope. And so did Fang. It was going to be hard, but they could get through this.

As a family.

Author's Note: Don't be confused, this shit ain't over yet. I know this is probably feeling a bit rushed, maybe even forced, but I'm just writing as it comes to me and I can't even hope to try and stop it. This is running like the chronic squirts, and I for one know plenty about that. I'm sure it got a tit corny at the end, but you had best get used to that. Lot's of drama and filler and dramatic filler on the horizon folks, so you'd best get your box of tissues and a barf bag 'cause it's coming, ready or not. See ya.


	33. Chapter XXXII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

Teh'Han pulled the chocobo to a stop, not that it needed much coaxing to do it. For two days he had been riding south, two days without pause or rest. Now in Oerba, he thought it fine enough to take a break, even if it be for just a few minutes. He was hungry, thirsty, and his chocobo was passed exhausted. The bird plopped down in the nearest empty space, its head flat on the ground.

His body still ached as he walked down the paved path to the bank of the lake, kneeling at its edge before shoving his head beneath the water. Sweet gods was it cold, but it felt so good. He drew deep of it until satisfied, emerging to rest on his knees, head back and gasping for breath. His stomach was still growling, but he ignored it. Food could wait. He just couldn't stand to be thirsty anymore, and took another drink simply because he could.

Kibo had been following this entire time, and he still lingered here with him as he rested. The raven landed beside him, looking at the human with its head slightly turned to one side. Han looked down at the bird, still uneasy of its presence. What was it doing here? Perhaps it was simply following him back to his master. Or had the gods happened to hear his thoughts about the joke book, and any minute now some calamity would come crashing down on his head? Han shook his head, refusing to entertain the idea. He just wanted to get back home.

Han wiped his arm across his face, smearing away some of the dried blood. Just that made him feel a bit better. Almost made him want to start on the road again...and that was a big almost.

Just a few more minutes, he told himself. Just a few.

If his pace was steady, even if he stayed the rest of the evening and slept here, he could be back in Archylte in a day or two. Then he could go back to the farm, back to his dog who he was beginning to miss terribly. Everything would go back to the way it was.

But was that what he really wanted?

Clearly, he realized, some things had changed since leaving the steppe. There was no doubt, he could even feel it, but he couldn't tell what it was that was different. Han was certain he was still a coward, to be sure. That certainly hadn't changed a damn bit. And if that hadn't been altered, there was little chance anything else had been either. But there was..._something_ was not the same.

Kibo grumbled at him, looking with a hint of accusation in his beady eyes. It was like he knew exactly what Han was thinking, knew what the human was wondering, but wasn't going to say a word. It was almost as if the raven was mocking him, which Han took as an excuse to give the bird as little acknowledgment as possible.

Han raked his scalp carefully with his hand, steel claws through dripping hair. What had happened, what had changed?

Kibo started squawking, flapping his wings and jumping up and down. He was clearly uneasy about something, and his manic actions were meant to serve as warning. Han didn't ignore this, feeling anxious himself all of a sudden. He looked all around, saw nothing, but the raven didn't stop his frantic behavior. Out of caution he looked for a place to hide, a large chunk of what remained of a once sturdy wall serving such purpose. Kibo followed him still, drifting out of sight and landing on the ground just beside him.

Then Han heard hooves.

He looked up, to the bridge overhead, and heard the heavy pounding resounding through the dilapidated steel. He ducked a little lower, listening as they drew closer and slowed to a halt. They started again but seconds later, slower and the sound of struck steel became the customary _clop-clop_ of hooves on pavement. He crouched as low as he could with his back pressed against the barrier. Han held his breath.

"Someone is here."

Han felt himself stiffen. Someone slid from a saddle. "Was. This bird is cold...dead. Whoever was here is long gone."

"So be it. Let us move on. We must reach the roots of the mountains before dark."

A horse whinnied, and off it went, hooves thundering further along the road and kicking up crystal dust.

Han peeked around his hiding place, catching a fleeting glimpse of whoever was just here. He felt his stomach twist as he was just able to make out a bondsman on the back of a monstrous black stallion. They had to be heading for the steppe, what else would they be doing out here?

Teh'Han waited but a minute or two before snapping into a standing position. He needed to get moving again.

But he would never catch them, not with the chocobo dead.

Kibo started screeching again, this time circling above his head instead of bouncing about on the ground. He circled two, three times before taking off somewhere, off towards the south, but then turned east, to the edge of the paved road. Curious, Han followed, thinking the bird only a bit stupid. There was nothing out there, nothing but a sheer drop.

Right?

Leave it to ravens to prove men wrong.

He inched to the edge of the road, going not nearly as far as Kibo flew out. It didn't look to be the safest of passages, but it was there all the same. It went down at a sharp grade, a roughly hewn path that could've easily been carved out of the mountain by the centuries of winter melts. It looked dangerous, long, but it had to be quicker than the other way. Unsafe, sure, but definitely faster than going through Taejin's Tower, as well as Mah'habara and Sulyaa. He could reach the steppe by tomorrow morning. That is, if he didn't break his neck on the way down.

He looked at the bird who squawked once more as he hovered in the air.

"All right. I take back all the nasty things I've thought about you." he shrugged. "Shall we?"

Kibo chirped, perhaps accepting the apology.

Han had to take the slope carefully, sliding down the uneven grade in his bare feet. Rocks scraped, poked, and stabbed, and he was forced to lean back and anchor himself with his hand or go rolling some hundred or more feet down. Once he reached the bottom of the first lean, he looked out from the landing, seeing in the evening sun the faded green fields of the steppe. It still seemed so far away, and there were even more stretches of treacherous pass yet ahead of him.

Still, Kibo pressed him on, squawking and prodding at him whenever he stopped. Driving him until after the sun went down. The darkness forced him to move slowly, more carefully as visibility disintegrated. The moon had thinned and so had its light, which would have been so helpful.

By the time he reached the bottom of the last hazardous pitch, he could barely stand to stay upright. His feet were so sore, throbbing from all the stones and shards of rock he was forced to walk over. And he was so tired. This will be his third day without a wink of sleep, and his eyes were threatening to close by themselves.

_No, keep pushing. Just one more step. You can make it._

But he simply couldn't.

He tried to keep going, his hand pressed against the rock to keep him upright, but it didn't help. His own arm was too heavy to keep up, much less his entire body. Han slumped to his knees, giving one last effort to at least crawl, but only managed to lay on his side. Soft dirt sufficed as his pillow.

Even Kibo's carrying on couldn't wake him.

_(-)_

Three days had passed, and you would think things were normal.

You would never imagine Vanille had been through such an ordeal, at least, that's how it seemed once the collar had been removed. With the ring of steel disposed of, and a change of clothes that covered up the scars, it was like flipping a switch. Where she was once quiet, averted, she was now happy, laughing. Like nothing had ever happened. Everyone knew better than that, of course, but they went with it. It was better than the alternative. When Snow and Serah came to see her the first time, she leaped out of the bed with arms open, demanding a hug. And she thought baby Lora was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Shilo had shown a unique interest in the baby as well, having never seen a human cub before. He had never imagined them to be so pink and squishy looking. And with so little fur!

Snow and Serah had come again today, Gurthang having followed Snow home after he finished what needed to be done out at the farm. Nothing much, just feeding the animals.

Vanille showed no fear or reservation regarding the dog.

"He's sweet," she said as she rubbed the top of his head.

"I think he smelled you guys on me and thought his master had come home." Snow crossed his arms as he stood at the foot of the infirmary bed.

"Poor fella." Fang sighed.

Vanille exchanged glances between the two of them. "Who owns him?"

"This older guy that lived in the pasture, everyone called him Shepherd."

"His name was Han." Fang corrected him. "He was with us...but he got left behind."

Gurthang whined, a long breathy whimper, and he nuzzled Vanille's lap. Maybe he knew what they were saying.

"He could still be alive." Shilo nodded, trying to sound somewhat encouraging. "He may even be on his way back here as we speak."

"Wishful thinking." Fang sniffed. "You saw it too, kitty, that fall probably killed him."

"Iffin' my two cents matter, I think he's still alive." Bard called from his bed, as if anyone were listening. He was off the morphine now so he surely meant that.

"That may be true, but I'll tell you the same thing I told Miss Lightning," Shilo pointed with his clawed finger. "Han is nothing if not a survivor. I think it would surprise you."

"Where is she anyway?" Serah chimed in. "I haven't seen her since you guys got back. I mean, I've seen her, but I haven't been able to talk to her."

"Good question," Fang looked towards the door.

"Maybe she just wants to be alone for while. She gets like that sometimes." Snow thought aloud. It was a valid point.

Fang scowled, getting the notion that she and the elder Farron needed to have a talk. But it could wait.

She was going to say something about it, but Hope coming in served as the perfect interruption. The young man had grease and bruises on his hands, redness on his face and back from the sun, his shirt was knotted around his waist.

"Hey, big man, what have you been up to?" Snow hadn't the opportunity until now the greet him, and lovingly mussed his already untamed hair.

Hope shied away from him, restraining a smile. "Been busy. Bradley's been having me install cannon lights on the roof."

"What for?" Serah looked at him quizzically.

"Francisco and Raul have been talking to him quite a bit, probably telling him about the Nighthawks...or whatever they are. I guess he thinks they'll help. I've still got some work to do, though. I should have them finished come the morning."

"Need some help?" Snow offered.

Hope shook his head. "Nah, I've got it. Mostly wiring I've got left to do. I just needed a break." he lifted his eyes. "You're looking better."

Vanille could almost feel herself starting to blush. "Thanks. I feel better."

"That's good." and he smiled.

Everyone looked between the two, noticing how they looked at one another. It was that slightly nervous sort of gaze. Like twitterpated kids. Shilo chuckled low in his chest as he slid off the bed and to his feet.

"I think I'll go outside for a spell. Can't take these tiny spaces." the Leonin stretched before stepping out.

"I ken I'll join ya, kitty, hold up," Bard grabbed the crutches that were propped up on the wall and hobbled out of the room.

"Guess I'd better get going too. Just wanted to stop by and check on...yeah," Hope was stumbling over his words, like he was in a hurry to leave.

"Can I go with you?"

Hope paused, surprised at Vanille's unexpected request. "Um...I guess...can't say I'd be good company. But if you want to...if it's okay with you?" and he looked at Fang, who appeared just as surprised.

At first she didn't know how to answer. Then again, "It's fine. Just try to be indoors by dark, yeah?"

"I'll bring her back before then."

Fang nodded, giving her consent as she watched the two leave. Three as Gurthang followed them. When they were out of sight, she felt herself tense. She'd been hiding it for a while, but now no one was watching. She could scowl all she wanted to.

"What is it?" Snow asked.

Shit, forgot about him.

"Fang?"

"N-nothing, just," she chewed on her thumb. "Just bothered."

"What's wrong?" Snow and Serah both sat on the edge of the bed beside Fang, who was lounging in one of the chairs.

"Just...she's acting like nothing happened."

The other two looked surprised. "Is that so bad?" Snow wondered. "I mean...I can only imagine but...does she really have to face it right now? Let her be happy for a while."

"Don't get me wrong, I agree," she assured him, "But...it's in her face. I can see it. She wants to talk to me, but can't." And it wasn't so much how that fact bothered her. "She could always talk to me. About anything."

"Maybe she doesn't have the words right now. Or like Snow said, let her leave it alone for now."

Fang nodded after a moment, crossing her arms. "It's just...I can't help not knowing. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong." her brow tightened that much more, giving her an almost furious look. "It's killing me."

"Give her some time, Fang. She'll open up to you. Let her have her space for now."

She hated it when he was right. Hated it enough to spit nails. "It just...makes me so. Damn. _Angry_." Fang looked to them sitting there, looking desperate. "Someone hurt her and I can't do anything about it! I can't do jack! I should've been there and I wasn't, and still I can't do a god damn thing!"

Lora began to fuss in Serah's arms. Clearly she didn't care for Fang's suddenly loud tone of voice.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. We understand." Serah bounced the baby in arms, her fussing soothed.

How could they understand, she wondered. They hadn't seen the scars, they hadn't seen the shame in her sister's eyes, a dimness that had never been there before. They hadn't even heard the assumptions of what had happened to her. How in the hell could they have a fucking clue?

"Look, Fang," Snow tried again, "it's only been a day or two, all of you are still trying to decompress. Just take a breather, and take it as it comes. Things like these you don't force."

Fang squeezed the bridge of her nose between her fingers, thinking it would ease the pressure. Again, he was right and she was hating it. If she did force it, she would just end up pushing Vanille away. That was the very last thing she wanted.

"She just needs patience and love, Fang." Serah added. "Lots of love."

"Yeah, you're right. But that doesn't make _me_ feel much better." but she hadn't expected to. This was going to be hard for everybody. A slow, painful process that couldn't be resolved over night. Personally, she would rather have her teeth pulled.

Seeing no further point in the discussion, Fang stood, stretching.

"Where are you going?" Snow watched her head for the door.

"I'm going to go chew on Lightning's ear for a bit."

And the funny thing is, Snow flinched, having a feeling that wasn't a metaphor.

Outside, Hope was back on the roof of the Resource Center. Vanille just behind him as he sat among a nest of wires, trying to get them arranged to where all of this crap would actually work. Gurthang waited at the foot of the ladder that leaned up against the building.

"Anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"No, not really. Like I said, all this is just time consuming." he set his tools down a moment, lifting the telescopic goggle from his eyes.

"I always thought you were going to be a soldier like Lightning."

"I did too, at first. Things change, though." he turned his head to look at her, smiling. "Guess I was just more suited for this."

"I guess so." she smiled back, somewhat sheepishly.

Hope paused, considering her a moment longer. "It's good to see you smiling. I really missed it...back in the gallery."

"Oh, yeah." the smile faded, probably the exact opposite of what he had intended. "I would've...I was glad to see you, just..."

"No, no, I get it. It's okay. That wasn't exactly the best time and place." now he felt stupid. He shouldn't have brought that up, not now. It was only going to upset her. "Sorry." and he shoved the goggles back over his eyes and went back to work.

Idiot.

Vanille continued to watch him quietly, her hands folded in her lap. It was actually kind of fascinating to see him work, though she had not the slightest idea what he was doing.

"I'm glad you were there though." She said suddenly.

"Hmm?" Hope lifted his head, looking a bit goofy in the goggles.

"I felt a little...more secure. You know?"

"Oh...well that's good, I guess." he honestly wasn't sure how to respond. It was the best he could come up with, and nothing else as he reached back in his tool box for something. He needed to splice a pair wires together.

There was silence again, an awkward air mixed in with it. Hope was trying to stay away from it, and Vanille, though perhaps unconsciously, was trying to address it. Part of her wanted to talk to someone, but the other parts were so scared, too ashamed, and simply unable to find the right way to vocalize it. What would talking change, she wondered? Why not just shove it down and forget about it?

Because she never could. At the very least, the brand on the back of her neck would make damn sure of that.

_Let the memory age a little. Let some of it fade_. She told herself. _The words will come in time, and then it will be easier to say them._

She watched him a while longer, thoughts still stirring. Her thumbs began to twiddle on their own. She wanted to scratch at the scab on her knuckle. Idle, unable to make up her mind, she resorted to the old stand by of just leave alone for later. With a sigh she scooted a little closer to him, Hope unaware as he was nose deep in his task, and leaned against him, her cheek on his shoulder. He didn't cease his work, but smiled, and tilted his head to the side until it met with hers. The two found comfort, a modicum of solace in this, just being together. For him it was reinforcement for his feelings that everything was going to be okay, the hope that he hadn't lost her. And for Vanille, it was simple comfort. She was safe with him, there was nothing to be afraid of.

Perhaps that was one of her reasons for coming with him. Maybe a part of her needed to know if she could stand to be alone with a man and not feel terrified or threatened. Shilo and Bard didn't really count. They weren't actually _men_ per say. Though Shilo had scared her at first. He was just so...unexpected. But he had turned out to be somewhat of a gentle giant. And Bard, well, what was he going to do, really? Vanille had the distinct feeling that the satyr was likely afraid of his own shadow.

However, she realized rather quickly, there was a great difference from being here and being in Arash. She knew these people, they were her friends. Those in Arash were most certainly not.

"Thank you." she said quietly after a long while.

"Huh? For what?"

"For coming for me."

"Oh." he could feel himself blushing again. "Well, it wasn't just me. We all helped each other. I mean, without Teh'Han's help we wouldn't have even known where to go."

Vanille straightened. "Who is this guy, anyway? Snow told me he lived in the pasture...the dog is his,"

"Yeah. Can't say I knew much about him, kept to himself a lot, but he'd been to Arash before and took us there. So if you want to thank anybody, it should be him."

"But he isn't here."

"No." he sighed a little. "Some of them think he's still alive...I don't know."

"I hope he is." she wanted to give thanks where it was due. That, and she didn't want to think that someone _else_ had died because of her. One was enough for her conscience.

Again she shewed those thoughts away. They could be dealt with later. Now she just wanted to enjoy the day, her company. And, especially, her freedom.

_(-)_

Fang didn't have to go far to find Lightning, although she did have to ask Bradley if he had seen her, and she only did this after she took a step outside to find Valkyrie still in the stable. She had to be around here somewhere, and she had a very good feeling she wasn't home. So Bradley was the best person to ask. He would know it if a Rangda farted in the Western Benchlands before even the monster did.

"Have I seen her? Yeah, I saw her about half an hour or so ago." he nodded, flipping through a file.

"What is this?" Francisco poked his head out of the storage room door behind the human, interrupting the two of them as he held something up. Bradley told him it was dynamite and he needed to put it back where he found it.

"So where did she wander off to?" Fang asked.

"My guess, considering the look of utter piss and vinegar on her face, she went down that hallway, turned right, and then went all the way to the door on the end." he explained in all seriousness. "Although I will warn you, that is a designated war zone, especially if she's in there."

"Ah, I'll take my chances."

"And that makes you a far greater man than I." he said under his breath as she walked on.

Fang followed his directions, taking the corridor he pointed towards, and walked it to its end. What on earth could be down here to worry the clerk like it did?

It was the rec room, actually. But that made perfect sense. It was Lightning's home away from home. If she was stressed out, pissed off, or simply couldn't stand herself, she would come here and work it out. And that usually consisted of an hour or more of pounding on the hanging bag that was already worn enough to require duct tape to keep it in one piece. And if she wasn't doing that, she would be pummeling the speed bag, or lifting weights as heavy as she could physically manage. Anything and everything to level out the disturbance.

And she was here now, just like Bradley said.

Lightning was waling on the heavy hanging bag like it owed her something. Sweat was rolling down her face, arms, thighs, her knuckles were reddened though they were wrapped. Her white tank top was clinging to her heated body. A hard grunt would force its way out with every strike of her fist or foot.

Fang stood in the doorway, arms crossed, curious if Light was even aware of her presence. For several minutes she waited, watching. Light had to know, because Fang could see something akin to ire show on her face, more and more every so often. A tightness in her brow, her lips pulled back in a sort of snarl. Something was wrong, and Fang had more than a faint inkling as to what it could be.

But she was going to ask anyway, once Light was done with her anger management.

Lightning hit the bag until her knuckles burned, until her shins started to bruise, until she just couldn't do it anymore. When that finally came about, nearly an hour after having begun, she held the bag by the chains to cease its swinging, resting her forehead against its canvas covering. With her eyes screwed shut she fought to catch her breath.

She knew Fang had been standing there, but wasn't in the mood to face her. She knew exactly what she was here for, and she didn't want to deal with it.

"So, what's got your skivvies in a twist?" Fang's voice echoed through the small room. She slipped off her sandals and stepped onto the padded floor. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of you in a while...this where you've been all this time?"

No, it wasn't. Most of the time she'd been out, riding Valkyrie across the steppe. It helped to clear her mind of all the rancid shit churning through it. It stopped her from having to think about her oh-so grandiose fuck up from nearly three days ago. It kept her from having to see flickering visions of his terror stricken face in her thoughts.

She had let him down.

"Not saying? Okay." Fang nodded, taking a couple more steps towards her. "Can I guess?"

_Don't do it. Not now, not over this_. Lightning kept her head pressed into the bag, eyes shut.

"I think you're feeling guilty about something." she said conservatively. "Maybe even a bit pissed off about it. Am I getting close?"

Still not a word. She wasn't going to play this game with her right now.

But it wasn't a game.

Fang was now standing right beside her. Lightning was unable to hide from her scrutiny.

"Come on, tell me."

"It's nothing." Light finally opened her eyes, but still wouldn't look at her.

"The hell it isn't!" Fang laughed. "How stupid do you think I am?"

She gave no answer.

"Why don't you just come out and say it, or do I need to keep guessing?"

Yeah right, like Lightning Farron was actually going to openly talk about her _feelings_.

"He depended on you, even if it were for just a split second...Han counted on you, and you couldn't follow through."

Gods damn it, she was too good at this.

"I'd be pretty pissed too, if I were you. But let me ask you something...are you mad because he fell, or just because _you couldn't catch him_?"

Lightning straightened in a single, sudden movement, her eyes wide with indignation and staring daggers at her friend.

"Did I guess right? Thought so." Fang almost sneered at her. "So all of a sudden he matters because _you_ came up short? Is that what it is? _Now_ you give a damn?"

Lightning's brow tightened in the middle, her eyes narrowing. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yes I do!" she protested. "You must think I'm stupid _and_ blind to think I didn't see how you treated him. You talked down your nose to him whenever you bothered to speak to him at all!"

Guilty as charged.

"You treated him like he was nobody!" Fang refused to back down. "And after all the help he gave us! Did you even know how scared he was to go there?"

"Yeah, he told me."

"And you listened? You cared enough to remember? There's a surprise."

Damn this hurt. She was hitting every nail on the head and drove them deep. Han had told her plenty, more than he told even Fang whom he regarded as a sister, but only because he knew she wouldn't care enough to bother him with it.

"Why did you even bother to try and save him?" Fang had to wonder.

It was in her nature, it was what she did. It didn't have any baring on her personal feelings.

"Just so you could feel better?"

Without thinking Lightning reacted, throwing a punch aimed right for Fang's nose as it was clearly stuck where it didn't belong. To her surprise, Fang caught it, held it tight and wouldn't let her pull it back.

"Better think twice about that, sunshine. If you wanna lay me out, you'd better be sure I stay down." and she was dead serious.

"Get out of my face, Fang." Light warned.

"Or you'll what?" and she met it head on. "I'll tell you what; you'll shove it down and bottle it up just like everything else. It's what you're good at, after all."

"Back off!" Light snapped.

"There you go, Claire, just keep on pushing," Fang countered. "Just keep pushing me away, keep me at arm's length with everybody else!"

Lightning couldn't remember the last time she been so close to a total meltdown.

"Keep pushing, and you're going to end up all alone with only your sorry self to blame!"

That terrified her, and if there was one emotion she couldn't handle, it was fear. So she lashed out, throwing her other fist in another attempt to finish what the other started.

Fang stepped away, still holding Lightning's other hand as she twisted it behind her back. She then pushed forward, the shoulder joint pinching enough for Light to feel it.

"Think about it," she repeated. "Back in my day I would make grown men cry."

"Only because you had the bigger dick!"

And Fang laughed, which only served to fuel her fury. She twisted, her elbow poised to connect with Fang's cheek, but she ducked out of the way, taking a large step forward and pushing Lightning off balance. She hit the floor.

"I really don't want to do this to you, sunshine. Really. All you've gotta do is tell me what's going on."

"It's none of your damn business!"

"Then you'd better get back up." And Fang popped her knuckles against her palms. "Unless you want me to whip your ass lyin' down?"

Lightning gave her a cheap smirk as she got to her feet. "Like you could."

"Watch me."

And too bad no one else was there to watch her do it too. It was almost painful as Lightning was tossed about the room like rag doll, Fang using her own weight and momentum against her in throws and joint locks that stopped her every time. Lightning kept kissing the mat, and kept getting madder. If Fang wasn't careful she would come out of this scrap missing some teeth. At least that was what she kept telling herself, trying to hear her conscience over the sound of her body landing hard on the padded floor.

At some point Fang held her down, straddling the former soldier and holding her arms down across her chest.

"Why can't you just tell me?" Fang no longer sounded goading, provoking, but concerned.

"It's _none_ of your business!" she insisted.

"Is it because you really cared about him, is that why its tearing you up like this?"

No, that couldn't be the reason. She wasn't going to let it be the reason. "Like hell!"

"Out with it!"

"What makes you think I could ever feel _anything_ for that _Pulsian savage_?"

Fang's expression fell, her mouth hanging and her eyes wide. Was this really what was getting to her? She couldn't keep up with her own superiority complex? By failing to save him, she had turned out to be no better than him. And it hurt her?

Fang slapped her, disgusted. "How dare you!" she could've sworn Light would've been a better person than that.

Lightning seemed unfazed, and still just as defiant. "Get off me!" and she bucked against her.

"Oh no you don't." Fang rose to her knees as Light's hips jerked upward, absorbing the force and staying right where she was. "You're gonna take that back, you smug bitch."

Now, I've never personally witnessed a cat fight before, but I'm going to use that to describe the knock down, drag out, hair pulling, sucker punching grudge match that the two were suddenly immersed in. It was a nasty endeavor. If you were seeing what I'm seeing - in my head that is - you wouldn't think they were friends by any means.

Then again, you only hurt the ones you love.

In time Fang was once again on top of her, thighs on either side, and hands holding her arms firmly in place. Sweat was rolling down her face, a red shiner on her cheek and a small stream of blood trickling from the stitches.

"Take it back!"

"Fine, I'm sorry!" Light relented.

"Now tell me how you really feel!"

"Fuck off!"

Fang shook her, pulled her up and shoved her down. Her back came off the mat and slapped back to it. "Care to try again?"

"Fuck off twice!"

"Wrong answer." and she shook her again, only she didn't stop this time. Up and down, up and down. _Wham-wham-wham_.

"Say it!"

"If you stop shaking me I will!"

Fang paused, almost looking hopeful. "Really?

"No!"

"Back to shakin' then,"

"Jesus Christ, stop it!"

"Then spill it!" Fang demanded for the absolutely last time. If she denied it again, she was just going to get up and leave. Gods be damned with her after that.

"It won't bring him back!" Light shouted as loud as she could. She just couldn't hold it in anymore.

Fang stopped, loosed her grip and straightened, looking down at her. Her face was no longer reddened with anger, her pride tested, but was now softened with defeat.

"What I feel doesn't matter anymore, he's dead." Lightning breathed. "It's the same with everyone."

Fang didn't say anything, knew it wasn't the time to. She needed to listen.

"I stay distant to keep from getting hurt. Any...anyone I've ever cared about has left me alone."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'd accepted that I was never going to see you again."

"But I'm right here,"

"That didn't stop the pain then!" she countered. "You're my best friend. And then you show up again, out of nowhere, and I'm on the verge of losing you for good. Once was enough!" The admission hurt her heart. She had been keeping that locked away for so long.

"What about Snow and Serah? They're still here for you."

"The hell they are." Light laughed bitterly, looking away. "They don't need me anymore. No one does. Even Hope grew up and can take care of himself now. And don't even get me started on my parents." though that could be blamed as the source of her abandonment issues.

Fang felt herself relax with a sigh, and she eased off of Lightning, now sitting on her knees. Understanding crept through her as Lightning rose to a sitting position.

"I am..._genuinely_ sorry...that I couldn't save him." she breathed, fighting the surging sadness in her chest. "I really am. I wasn't at first...if we'd done this a day ago, you would've been right...but something changed." she shook her head as it hung, her hair hiding her face. "I don't know what...but it doesn't matter now. He's not coming back."

Fang was beginning to feel just a bit like an ass, a little guilty over what she did in order to wrench the confession free, but it was only a bit. And it was worth it.

Not caring if she would want it or not, Fang gathered Lightning into her arms and hugged her tight. Somehow it seemed like the best thing, the _only_ thing to do. And to her surprise, Light accepted, and even reciprocated the gesture.

"You're my best friend too, sunshine. No doubts about that." Fang said softly, feeling Light's grip on her suddenly tighten. "And I'm always gonna be here for you, no matter what. But if you ever say anything like that again you're gonna get more of the same. Except next time you'll be kissing my boot at mach four." Part of her still couldn't believe what she said, and all just to reinforce her own denial.

"Sorry again for that." Light almost laughed. She could still feel Fang's hand print burning on her cheek. "Where'd you learn to fight like that, anyway?"

"My dad taught me," she answered with a small nod. "For when I get married."

Lightning leaned back, her expression showing her uncertainty of whether or not she heard that right. "Come again?"

"Clearly Pulsian marital rituals are completely different than yours."

"I would certainly hope so. Why on earth would you need to know that?"

"We don't just consummate the marriage, sunshine, we engage in sexual combat." Fang grinned from ear to ear. "Basically it's all to decide who gets to be on top."

Lightning's face was priceless. "All that aside," she needed to get the nasty mental images out of her head. "You think you could teach me that?"

"Oh sure. Wouldn't want you going to bed unprepared." and Fang found herself cackling at how Lightning shied away and shook her head.

"You are such a pain in the ass." she fell back, lying on the floor. All the physical activity was starting to get to her. She was feeling tired, but better than when she'd started. "Fang?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What does '_bah deh roh_' mean? I've heard you say it a couple of times, and I think I've even heard Shilo say it. What is it?"

She fought the urge to laugh again. "It's Pulsian."

"I know that much." her tone was of the "duh" persuasion. "But what does it mean?"

"Let's make a deal. If Han comes back, I'll tell you."

"And if he doesn't?" she already didn't like the sound of this, though the odds were quite stacked in her favor.

"Well...what do you want?"

She thought about it, and thought about it... "You have to go on a date with the goat."

Fang looked down at her, her brow hiked on one side. "Seriously?"

"Those are my terms."

"You're not used to negotiating, are you?"

"Why?"

"Because you suck."

Author's Note: What a pile of crap! Augh! Just another dose of filler, yippy. I did have to force this a little, sorry. Not that many folks keep up with this anyway. Got some action coming your way, some violence I'm sure you'll all love. And then after that, it's nothing but filler. Yeah, sorry. Deal with it. But I don't think this fic will stretch much further, maybe five more chapters at most. We'll see. Catch ya later!


	34. Chapter XXXIII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

It was early, the sun hadn't come up yet.

Bard had found himself unable to sleep, but not because of the lingering pain in his leg. He could tolerate that. He sat in the infirmary bed, his head on his knees and his arms folded around his legs. His brow was heavy over his amber eyes and he shrugged quietly in the darkness. Something troubled him and there was no way he knew of to ignore it. He wanted to talk to someone, but all of the others were still fast asleep.

So he sat there and stewed, for hours and hours, mulling his woe in his mind until he felt like the most terrible pile of scum in all of Pulse.

It was all his fault.

"What's the matter?" came a gentle whisper.

His head snapped up, blinking until he could focus. "Miss Vanille? You should be sleepin'. Did I wake you?"

"No." she shook her head. "Is something wrong?"

"Wha? Ah, no, just my mind not wantin' teh be quiet is all."

"So what's on your mind then?" she gave him a little smile and sat down in front of him, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

Bard looked at her curiously. She wasn't going to drop it, was she?

"Come on, we're all friends here." she encouraged.

"I ken," he nodded curtly, letting his chin rest on his knees again. "It's just...I'm a sorry excuse for a man. It innae bad enough I'm a lily liver'd good for nothin'...but I went and got the old fella killed."

"Didn't you say you thought he was alive?" she was only assuming they were thinking about the same person.

"Aye, I did."

"Aye?"

"Yes." he elaborated, feeling a tired sense of dejavu.

"So why don't you just say yes?"

"Why don't you just say aye?"

Vanille thought about it a moment, her brow raised. "Good point."

Another one for the goat man. "Still, I did say that...I guess that's changed. I dinnae know why. Somethin' in my belly."

"So why do you feel so bad?"

"'Cause it was my my fault he got left behind." he told her with a hint of force, as if she should have been able to guess why. "If I hadn't been such a sorry...he should've just left me there."

Vanille's heart went out to him, she could understand. She'd been there, having seen people in danger or even hurt due to her own inability to act. She knew that guilt fairly well.

"But he didn't leave you," she said after a moment. "Maybe he saw something in you that you don't?"

"Aye, the yellow stripe up my back."

"Don't be so hard on yourself." she put her hand atop his head and mussed his hair, her fingers touching his horns. "You know, there was something my dad used to say,"

Bard lifted his head, curious.

"He said 'there's no such thing as cowards, just men who don't know how brave they can really be.'"

For a brief moment, he had a hard time finding any truth in that. "Well, maybe so, but there's somethin' else."

"What?"

"I believe I've gone and upset Miss Lightning. Iffin' that be the cause of her bad mood." he was rather sure it was, and if that was true, it was all because of him. She was _not_ someone he wanted angry with him.

Vanille hadn't really noticed, but Lightning had yet to show her face in the last few days. Could she be upset? It was possible, but highly unlikely. If anything ever _did_ bother her, she was sure to keep it tucked out of sight.

"Light's a little odd like that sometimes," was her explanation in the end.

"Then I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if I kept my head down anyhow." he sighed.

"It'll be okay." she assured him. "She hasn't come after you yet, has she?"

"N-no," he felt himself tense, maybe expecting the former soldier to come ripping through the door any second.

"Then you should be fine." she pat his head again.

"Oh aye," he agreed with a hint of sarcasm. "She'd still have to catch me first."

Vanille laughed softly. "Light scares you, doesn't she?"

"Why, innae that normal? Then again, I'm scared of plenty of things."

"It can't be that bad."

"Oh, but it is. I first met your sister after she pulled me out of a log in the middle of marsh, I was hiding from cannibals."

"But anybody would be scared about that." she, personally, thought him a little silly for faulting his reactions that way.

"Your friends weren't, that's for damn sure. I wish I had half the gumption they've got."

"Well," she paused, trying to find the words. "According to what I've heard, you've got that and more."

"Eh?"

"Fang told me about what you did to help. You sounded pretty brave to me."

"Oh, no," Bard shook his head. "She's just bein' nice. Hangin' around doesn't take much really."

"No," Vanille corrected him, "I mean how you helped _her_."

"Hm." if there were more light in the room, she would've seen him blushing. "That...anyone could've done that."

"But it was you. And I don't know if she's told you, so I will; thank you."

Bard felt the gratitude in his heart, a warmth that blossomed in his chest and eased his compunction a little. "You're a sweet lass." he sighed after a long moment. "It innae a wonder why all these folks care for ya so."

She giggled behind her hand. "It's like I said, we're all friends here. We're family."

"So I've heard. You...ya dinnae suppose...can I be part of the family too?"

"As far as I see it, you already are." and she leaned forward, kissing the top of his head. "Good night."

"G'night," he whispered back. Funny enough, he felt like he could actually sleep now.

_(-)_

Four days. She had been traveling, pushing her limits, for four days to make it this far. And now, around mid-afternoon, Sabine waited along the head of the Northern Antrepass, just strides away from the the border of Archylte. She waited, itching for the darkness of evening, and watched, spying from the pass down into the valley. Amala crouched beside her, looking as well, watching as people came and went as pinpricks of color on the green landscape.

She could hear the vampire sniffing the air, searching for traces of blood. Though surely washed away by now, the scent of it lingered still, would for weeks yet. As the hours crawled by the bondswoman would nod or point, showing Sabine the familiar forms of those she recognized from the manor.

"Affir described that one to me," Amala tipped her chin, and Sabine looked to see a large brown-gold form moving about the settlement below. "A Leonin."

Sabine had seen them before, although briefly, and they hadn't been nearly that big. Those that lived in the desert had not the luxury of the fine hunting opportunities as those on the Switchback.

"Could you kill him?" she wondered.

"Given time." the vampire nodded. "It would not be easy."

"Then the hawks can have him." she said flatly. "Any others you recognize?"

"I believe I saw the innkeepers earlier, though I am unsure. I have not seen there faces often."

"Hm. What else do you see?"

"Mostly humans...children...animals," then Amala's eyes widened and she rose a little. "_There_." and she pointed with one arm fully extended, a clawed finger jabbing the air.

Sabine took interest in the first sudden movement she had seen the bondswoman make. She looked down into the valley, and though her eyes were not as good as the vampire's, she could define what it was she was pointing to. Sabine's vision was actually quite good at a distance.

"The one on the white mare? Who is that?"

"She murdered our lord." Amala's slitted eyes slid to settle on the mortal.

Sabine felt the fury bubble up, but kept her reaction hidden. With a slow breath she shoved it down. It would resurface later, to be sure, but not until she allowed it to.

"Then she is my target." Sabine eased down and out of sight of the valley, arms crossed. She wanted a quick nap. "And then I will find the slave girl."

"Why?" one of the first and only times Amala ever asked that question.

"It is because of her that they came in the first place. If not for her, he would still live, and I would not be here." there was bitterness hidden in her indifference.

"Perhaps...let me have her."

"Hm?"

"Let me kill her." Amala's gaze shifted away from the mortal when she looked at her. "I...I am also angry." and it wasn't so much a declaration as it was an admission of something unusual.

Sabine pondered the request, surprised at the roundabout way the vampire made it. Typically the vampire's she knew were very straightforward, no nonsense creatures. Then again, Amala had always been a servant. Perhaps she knew that, had things not gone so wrong, she would be serving Sabine in time as her charge's mate? Maybe.

"Very well." she nodded after a time. "Very well. But _I will have_ the one who killed him. I will destroy her myself...with my own hands."

And then she shut her eyes, lingering on the sleeping bodies of hawks in the shade of the rocks around her for but a moment before doing so. She dozed off.

Below, in the valley, Lightning rode Valkyrie out of the settlement at a slow trot. She needed to clear her head. And, while the hour long session of Pulsian Wrestling with Fang was all well and good, it only served to pacify her busy thoughts temporarily...as well as make her aware of her ability to bend in ways she hadn't been before. Her lower back still pinched a little.

With a gentle kick Valkyrie moved a little faster.

She hadn't really confessed anything yesterday, she told herself. Sure, she had let a lot of stuff go from the emotional embargo she had them under, but in the end there was nothing disclosed that most hadn't already been suspicious of.

No, no real confession. Just a mother load of suggestion. But even in the midst of all that, it had forced her to admit a few things.

Lightning admitted to being lonely, vulnerable. Not all the time, but often enough to notice. She admitted to thriving on family, interaction with those she loved, but was too afraid to take what she needed. Stay away, stay back or it will hurt. That was her mantra. And, silently, she faced the simple fact that she had been terrible to Han, and that her feelings were unjustified. Fang made her realize that.

Then again, she also resembled that remark.

Realizing she had actually said it out loud, never mind how long she thought about it, made her almost sick.

Light pushed Valkyrie a little faster, out into the flatter areas of the steppe.

Lightning had looked at him as people looked at her during her tenure as a L'Cie. She wasn't a person then, she was a thing. And that was how she saw him. As to why? It could've been anything. She couldn't give a single reason.

And then those feelings changed, now she saw him differently, though now the only way she could see him was in her mind. And it was the same image, over and over, that of his terror stricken face. Maybe that had served to humanize him in her eyes, confirmed that he had feelings just like her.

_You're one in the same._ A little voice said.

No, that couldn't be...could it?

She shook the idea from her mind. Save it for later, she told herself. It could wait.

Besides, even if she felt...it wouldn't matter. He didn't. He probably hated her for how she treated him. And if he didn't, anything else was due to her similarity to his late wife. That's all it would ever be.

Light pushed Valkyrie to gallop as fast as she was able, ducking in the saddle and letting the hard wind pass over her in a roar of movement.

Back at the settlement, things went about their usual way. People were out, going here and there. Neighbors greeted neighbors and so on. You know, normal, boring shit that normal, boring people do.

Hope was still perched atop the Resource Center roof, putting the finishing touches on the collection of spot lights he had installed. There were four of them, one situated at each corner, and he had all but one of them working like they should. Vanille sat in the grass below the ladder, entertaining Gurthang as he rolled on his back. The dog, it seemed, had taken a shine to her, and was now of the habit to follow her about during the day. Once night fell he would go back home.

Vanille hooded her eyes from the sun with one hand, looking up and just able to see the bend in Hope's back from where she sat.

"How's it going up there?" she called up to him.

"I might...just...have it," and there was a grunt of relief in the reply. "Maybe _now_..."

"You okay?"

A moment of silence, and then he poked his head over the edge of the roof. "I am now, everything's working." and then he started down the ladder. He was sweaty, greasy, once again shirtless, and he had been shocked a couple of times, but he looked pleased. "That should do it. We, officially, have the power."

She giggled. "High five," and held up her hand. A gesture he reciprocated with a smile. Gurthang seemed happy too, his paws on the young man's chest and barking. He didn't get to stay like that long, Hope shoving him down gently as the way his claws hooked he was afraid the over-enthusiastic animal would tear one of his nipples off. In the end the claws only left little red welts on his chest.

"So what now?" she asked.

"Now I need to clean up." he wiped his hands down his chest, leaving faint black streaks in the sweat.

"Hope, dear boy,"

Both of them turned, even Gurthang lifted his head to see Raul as he turned a corner.

"Hey, Raul."

"How goes the project?" the vampire's brow climbed, betraying his interest.

"I just finished, actually."

"Fantastic, you must show me how it works. Once you have a spare moment of course."

"Sure."

"Wouldn't want to impose on any time with your friend," his slitted eyes settled on Vanille. "You seem to be feeling a lot better."

Vanille shrank away from him, a tiny jerk of a gesture that even the vampire almost missed. But if he hadn't seen that, he most certainly noticed the hyper-vigilance on her face.

"I am. Th-thank you." she replied.

"Oh," Raul just realized what cause such a reaction. "Forgive me. Perhaps I will talk to you later, Hope?"

"Sure, yeah."

And the vampire went on his way.

Hope had seen it too, the way Vanille looked at him. Part of him had even felt it, a tense tingling. "Raul's okay." he assured her.

Vanille's brow knitted in the middle. "I hope I didn't come off as rude." it was like the fear had suddenly dissipated.

"I think he understood. Like I said, he's a pretty good guy."

She only nodded. At that moment, all her mind was able to process were the eyes and the fangs, nothing else. All she could see was a stranger, a vampire she naturally couldn't find trust in.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Come on, let me change clothes and then we'll go find Fang."

"Okay." and she nodded, her body language still submissive and insecure. Gurthang followed them in the young girl's shadow.

The dog even allowed himself entry when Hope opened the door to his dwelling, his nose up and sniffing all the unfamiliar scents of a marginally familiar human.

Vanille took a browsing glance around the room, her brow climbing. "Oh my,"

It was a mess. It was easily worse than Tezzim's room. Or maybe it was the same, just squashed into a smaller space?

"Just give me a few minutes." he said, rummaging about the room around all of the spare parts and tools and scraps for something cleaner to wear. He grabbed up a change of clothing and tossed it over the rim of the shower stall, stepping into it before undressing and turning the water on.

Vanille waited, seemingly still engrossed by the gross mess. Did this man not know how to pick up after himself? She looked down at Gurthang who raised his ears, possibly just as curious to the matter of Hope's living conditions.

She wandered around the small space, mindful of anything on the floor that might cut her bare feet. There were dirty dishes in the sink, greasy cloths everywhere, and like any boy he seemed staunchly against doing his laundry. And his bed was just as unkempt with a sleeping bag half twisted and partially slumped onto the floor.

Vanille dared to sit in the one chair that was pulled away from the table littered with more...junk, and she did so cautiously. Perhaps she was half expecting to get poked by a stray shard of metal or screwdriver. When she found it safe enough to remain, she was idle for a moment, her thumbs twiddling.

She happened to glance down at the table, seeing something peeking out from beneath a stray sock just in front of her. With hesitance she pushed it away, mindful of a brown stain that forced her to cringe, and found a worn spiral notebook there. Curious, she pulled it closer, gripping the corner between her thumb and index finger, tugging. Without thinking about it she pulled back the cover.

It was full of drawings, mostly of a schematic persuasion. Plans and blue prints, intricately detailed, describing numerous different types of machines. She didn't much understand what they were, what the images were supposed to portray, but she could appreciate the precision in the sketches. The detail seemed to suck her right in.

The plumbing squeaked as Hope turned off the water, pulling down the clean clothes from where it hung. Somewhat dry and more decently dressed he stepped out. He spotted Vanille at the table, saw how her head was tilted.

"What's that?" He took a couple of steps forward. "Oh yeah, those."

She looked up at him, blushing a little. Should she not have looked? Should she have asked him first? "They're nice."

"Thanks."

"Maybe you should've gone into art instead of machinery." she joked lightly.

"I thought about it, actually," he knelt down onto one knee beside her, a hand rubbing the back of his head. "But...I guess it didn't hold my interest. Couldn't find it in me to draw people very well either."

Considering what she was seeing on the first few pages, she found that hard to believe.

"I tried, but nothing really came out right." he added.

"Are there any of them in here?" and she just started turning pages in search of something he might have left.

Before he could stop, and so you know he did try, he even reached, she topped herself. She paused on one of the last few pages in the notebook. He felt embarrassment tightening his chest, heating his face.

"Is...is this me?" she turned to look at him, surprised.

"Like I said," he repeated, refusing to meet her gaze. "It just wouldn't come out right."

But that wasn't the reason she asked. Her curiosity was more on the side of why he would do it. And she asked him.

"Well..." he still couldn't look at her. "I just...I missed you, I guess. I mean...we went through so much together...and then you were gone. I didn't know if I would ever see you again."

She looked back at the rough sketch again, then to him once more, and he had yet to raise his head.

A few minutes of him mentally fumbling his words forced him to move, and he looked at her with a shy smile.

"Kind of creepy, huh?" he laughed.

No, she thought. It was actually somewhat endearing, in that teenage love sort of way.

"When I heard there was a chance you had come back, I was so happy." he shook his head, perhaps somewhat in awe at the remembrance of the emotion. "And then that day at the conservatory...I didn't want to believe what could've happened..." and out of some reflex he reached for her hand, grasping it gently with both of his, his eyes lingering on the pink scar across her wrist. "It broke my heart...having to leave you with him."

Vanille was touched. She had guessed his emotions about that day in the gallery, but she had no idea of the rest of his confession. But that may have been due simply to the lack of opportunity to consider it.

His grasp was gentle, soft, and so warm. The heat went right through her, filled her, gave her comfort. She let her other hand curl over his, her body turning slightly in the chair to face him. It was then she suddenly realized just how much he had grown up. It a appeared the only things about him that hadn't changed were his hair, his eyes, and his optimism.

Traits she was glad had not been altered by the years.

Hope stood, not expecting Vanille to do the same, but he was still holding her hand so he surely should have. They now faced one another, perilously close. He dwarfed her by a few inches, but she didn't feel intimidated. She trusted him. It was Hope.

"We should go find Fang. She'll wonder where you are." he said somewhat distantly. Now he couldn't take his eyes from her, when he was unable to face her before. Something had shifted in those short moments.

"I guess we should." she smiled a little, a small blossom of redness on her cheeks. "Don't want her to worry."

"Yeah, she'd kill me." he laughed softly. "Let's go then."

"Yes."

But they didn't move. Neither one or the other made a gesture to initiate any such action as the one they were just discussing. If anything they inched just minutely closer, an unnoticeable movement to the center. Vanille tipped up her chin, looking at him curiously, perhaps silently wondering what he was thinking. Honestly, he wouldn't have been able to tell her. His mind was a bit blurry at the moment.

"Fang's going to come looking for me if we don't get moving." her tone was just above a whisper, just as distant as his own had sounded.

"Just another minute." Hope said, his grip on her hands tightening as he suddenly, unconsciously, dipped his head.

Their kiss was chaste, reserved, but unexpected all the same. Just a bare brush of the lips that eventually settled into gentle pressure. And it was more on the brief side of lingering. Hope straightened, looking down at her.

"I'm sorry," his expression was of mild concern. "I didn't...I should've asked," and he wanted to turn away. He hadn't meant to, it just happened. The last thing he wanted was to take what she didn't want to give.

Vanille shook her head, her sustained grip keeping him in place. "It's okay. I didn't mind."

Hope looked very much surprised. He hadn't expected that. Best case scenario he thought she would feel uncomfortable, or at the worst, frightened.

"Oh...okay. I'll ask next time." relief was a wave in his chest, a swell that swept the tension away. But that didn't serve to chase away any of the deep redness in his face. "M-maybe we should get going now."

"Just another minute?" she asked knowingly, mimicking his previous request. She let go of his hands in order to press her palms to his chest. Then she rose to the balls of her feet in order to reach his lips once more.

Hesitantly he allowed his arms to ease around her, to hold her. And he dared to give a little more than last time, his lips more pressing. And it lingered, a sweet delay that he had often dreamed about before.

This time when they parted, Vanille fell against him, her cheek to his chest between her palms. "Just hold me. Please."

"Okay." he didn't have to think about it.

Vanille could feel pain from memories threatening to overwhelm her. While Hope was gentle, patient, giving with his affection, it forced her to remember how much the vampires had not been. She was forced to recall the cold flesh, the careless clutch of claws, and fangs that pierced. She wanted to escape it, and he was her only refuge. Hope was the only one who could undo that damage.

The only way to heal those wounds would be to squash the bad memories with better ones. Better ones that Hope seemed willing and able to weave with her.

Fang looked to the horizon as she sat in the grass, watching the sky change steadily from blue to fiery crimson as the sun eased into setting. She could just make out Lightning in the distance, still roaming the steppe from atop Valkyrie's back.

The satyr was beside her, laying on his back, eyes closed as he quietly played his violin. He pulled the bow in slow, steady, swaying strokes, the strings humming in a lazy chorus. He'd been doing this since he sat down beside her, more than an hour ago, not having said a word. He just played on, and she wasn't bothered. He was good at it. So what was to mind?

Fang did notice, however, when he stopped.

"Hm? What did ya stop for? I was enjoyin' that."

"Sorry, just a wee tired." he sighed, his arms laid out beside him. His leg had been ringing with a dull pain for a while, and it seemed to sap him of what energy he had. "But thank ya for bein' such a kind audience."

"It was nice." she assured him. Fang leaned back on her hands, lounging, looking down at him. "You don't look so hot."

"I'm fine."

"You need to get back to bed, maybe?" she lifted an eyebrow, though he wasn't looking. "Nanny need a nap?"

"Aye, maybe so." he almost smiled. Finally Bard opened his eyes, turning his head. He found himself staring a moment, drawn to the spectacular glow the evening sun cast across her skin. What a beauty she was.

"Hey, eyes up here."

"What? Oh, aye, my mind was wandering. Sorry, were ya sayin' somethin' else?"

"No." she laughed a little. "But seriously, you all right?"

"Aye, I am."

She paused, analyzing his answer. "I've noticed you've been pretty quiet the last day or two. Something buggin' ya?"

Bard took a deep breath, folding his hands beneath his head.

"You still dwellin' on what happened?" she asked, or guessed. Whichever.

"Aye." he confessed with some effort. "It's heavy on me."

"What were you supposed to do? Really?"

"I could've convinced him to go on without me." his brow settled low over his eyes, his expression grave with shadows. "All I did was slow him down."

"It was his choice, Nanny. _You_ can't take fault for that."

"But I cannae help how I feel. Like it's my fault."

"Well, I suppose the only one who can change that is you." she tilted her head back.

Bard made no effort to debate her statement, unsure of where he stood.

"But there's something else...isn't there?" she asked some moments later, when the silence had stretched too far and too tense.

"Hm? No...I dinnae think so." the only hesitation was his mental self-validation. "No." he reassured himself aloud.

"Oh, my mistake." she nodded, looking down into the grass as her chin pressed against her shoulder in a way that she was looking away from him. "Must just be me."

"Wassat now? What be botherin' you then? Something other than the obvious, I ken."

"Oh aye." there was no hesitation, no lingering consideration on her answer. Just on the need to look him in the face.

"What?"

"Just...curious, actually."

"About?" Bard lifted himself onto his hands, wincing as his weight pressed on a tender blister on his palm.

"A couple nights back," she let her head fall back. "What was that all about? You know, just before we left the inn."

The satyr felt his face warming and turned it away, letting his chin rest on his chest. "Aye...that."

"So? Care to explain?"

Bard nervously scratched his scalp. His glance jumped from her to the grass with a curt jerk of his head. He did this a handful of times, waiting for the words to come to him. Honestly, he hadn't been thinking clearly when he'd forced his trembling lips to hers, but he certainly hadn't regretted it once it had happened and he got over the gut wrenching shock of what he'd done. He had been convinced he was going to die!

"I, um, well," he was raking his scalp once more, finding little else to say other than that.

"Let's start with why? How about it?" she said, thinking it would help.

"I...I was rather convinced it was gonna be the last time I saw ya. Dinnae wanna die with any regrets, I guess."

"Okay, fair enough." she nodded, fighting the urge of a small laugh. "Next question: of all the last things to do, why that? Seems a little silly."

"I dinnae ken it was." hearing her regard his actions in such a disregarding tone was a little painful. Then again, part of him had expected it. She was human after all, and he...well, wasn't. "I ken I should just come out and say it..."

She looked at him, watching his expression closely as it remained stuck in a flustered setting.

"I do like ya, Miss Fang, more than I probably should."

Fang turned away, her gaze lingering on the horizon once again. She had her suspicions, had them for a while. Maybe it had been his body language, or the way he had regarded her with almost deifying respect. The look on his face when they first met, when he first laid eyes on her, had been one of awestruck adoration of something previously unknown. Something exotic.

"But it dinnae matter." he shook his head. "I ken it just wouldn't be possible."

"What wouldn't be possible?" she had to test him, had to hear his reasons.

"...Us." he said after a taking a breath. "I doubt the gods would ever stand for such a thing."

"Gods be damned." she huffed. "Like they got any real say in these matters. Their reach is long enough to bring people together, but whether they stay or go is none of their business."

Bard's eyebrows hiked. What blasphemy! He swallowed. "Ya really think so?"

"I do." but her opinion was biased. She had been on the gods' leash long enough to have deep seeded bitterness towards them. Fuck 'em.

"Well," he considered her words a little longer. "Even iffin' that be true...I doubt I could ever make ya happy."

"How do you figure?" one eyebrow spiked in his direction.

"Dinnae ken...just a feelin'. I mean...I'd imagine you'd be wantin' little ones someday." and he was more than certain he couldn't do that. Again, she was human. "Aside from that...well...I ken that's the only thing."

"Well, if that's all," she laughed, a breathy sound that was mingled with sarcasm.

"Aye. And that dinnae even take into account my cowardice."

"Oh yes, can't forget that." Still tongue-in-cheek. "Is that everything?"

"I believe." he concurred after a moment.

"Great. Can I have a turn now?"

Bard was puzzled. Since when were they playing a game? The small smirk tugging on the edge of her mouth was a bit unnerving.

"If not having kids is bothering you, don't let it. It doesn't bother me, and excuse the pun." that wasn't exactly on her list of life goals at the moment. "And as far as you being a weenie goes, I couldn't care less. You've got a good heart...you're a giver."

"Oh, well thank ya."

"But you're a lot of other things too, good things." she assured him. "But I do have to ask," and her face darkened as her brow furrowed. "Why? What do you see in me? Is it just because I'm different?"

"Well, that certainly has quite a bit teh do with it, but," he paused mid thought. "It innae everything. I guess...I see in you everythin' I dinnae see in myself. Mayhaps it was how I was brought up. Strength is an attractive trait for us satyrs."

"Hmm. Are scars attractive too?"

"Eh? Wassat now? What makes yeh ask somethin' like that?"

"For cryin' out loud, nanny, I got 'em on my face." she huffed, frustrated. This sort of thing had always been a tender subject. Prospects for a partner had been slim since the beginning, if not for caring after Vanille then it was men's natural aversion towards her. She had always been such a dominant personality. She didn't know what else to be. And being a L'Cie had never been anything but a hindrance, a "do not touch" sign to anyone looking to get passed the friend zone.

_"I'm sorry you take so much after me, Fang."_ she remembered her father saying. _"But luckily you've got your mother's beauty."_

They would joke about it often, her laughing about it so it wouldn't bother her so much. Especially now when she didn't have her mother's good looks to back her up any longer.

"That surprises me that you would bring that up, Miss Fang. I dinnae ken they bothered you." he was shocked, and it showed in the widened set of his shiny amber eyes. "And iffin' yeh wants teh be arguin' about looks, why not gander at me? I dinnae even have toes, woman! An' I have hair _everywhere_."

"But you're _supposed_ to look like that." she said with an air of "duh" in her voice somewhere.

"Well, since I've met you, I assumed ya were meant to look like _that_." he gestured his hand towards her. "An' it's the only you I know. Regardless, you're still the most stunnin' creature I've ever laid eyes on."

Fang couldn't help but laugh quietly in her chest. He was acting somewhat silly, almost like a lost puppy. He had it so bad. "You're such a flatterer." she said finally, unsure of how else to respond.

He was blushing again, his hands pulling at the grass. Then he shrank a little, pulling his knees to bury his chin in them. "It's the truth."

"Oh I don't doubt it. You're nothing if not honest, I'll give ya that. I just think all your taste is in your mouth."

"I eat grass."

"I stand by what I said." she laughed.

He shrank a little lower. "Iffin' you're gonna shoot me down, Miss Fang, might ya just do it already? Cannae say I like it...ya draggin' me through the mud and all."

She laughed again, doing nothing to help his ego. "I'm not, nanny, really. Did I say _anything_ about you not being good enough? If I'm not mistaken, I haven't even given you an answer yet."

"Oh. Aye." now he felt silly, as well as the size of a speck of dust.

"Maybe I'll just think about it a while...mull it over."

"Mayhaps that's better." he nodded after a moment. "Aye, that's best. Although, I have one last question."

"Shoot." her head fell back as it turned, her chin atop her shoulder. He looked deep in contemplation, his bushy brows thick.

"Was...was it good at least?"

Fang didn't answer right away, but smiled as she stood up, brushing bits of grass and creases out of her sari. With one hand on her hip she looked out as the sun sank behind that jagged horizon, casting the steppe in shadow. Her other hand raised, the fingertips resting against her lips for a brief second.

Still smiling she looked down at him. "Don't you worry your horned head about that, Bard. It was just fine." It had been, albeit a little clumsy. He had almost missed.

But then the smile faded, even as his grew with her approval. Fang watched as darkness fell over the steppe, and an uneasy feeling crept up her back. Something...was something about to happen?

"What's the matter, Miss Fang?" Bard stood as well, grabbing for his crutches.

Her brow furrowed, her wild eyes narrow as she half turned around. "Don't know. I'm thinkin'...maybe you should be heading back inside. Getting dark." and she sounded distracted, off elsewhere.

"Maybe I'd stay with you...you look bothered."

"No, just go on. I'll catch up." and she started walking, suddenly overwhelmed by the quiet, nagging need to find her sister. Her steps quickened as she went along.

And then, somewhere out of sight but not out of sense, the first Nighthawks opened their eyes.

Author's Note:Some more delicious filler, yay. Not much to say about this one, only that it was what it was. I think I dwelled a wee too much on dialogue, but there wasn't much else to do for the time being. Don't worry, if your bored, I'll be sure to remedy that here shortly. Enjoy.


	35. Chapter XXXIV

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

Han suddenly woke to Kibo's prodding, the raven jumping up and down on his face and flapping his wings in a fashion that would slap him with them. His body jerked with a pained grunt, his body fighting him. He blinked his vision clear, at first perplexed when he was greeted with darkness. Then he realized...

He had over slept. The sun had gone down without him.

He shuddered and forced himself to his feet.

_Am I already too late?_

And he ran, clearing the pass and stepping out into the lower reaches of the steppe to the east. His body ached, resisted the sudden burst of frantic motion, but he bit it back. He was so close, he had to make it back to the colony. He had to warn them if there was still time.

(-)

Anxiety gripped her, Fang feeling the heightened beating of her own heart. Keeping it under control she still searched for Vanille, knowing that the last place she had been was around the Resource Center with Hope and Gurthang. That was the first place she checked and had not found them. She continued on, her fingertips rubbing against the pads of her thumbs as her nerves frazzled.

Where the hell were they?

Gurthang barked and Fang sharply turned her head towards the sound. There was the dog, Hope and Vanille standing on either side of him.

"There you are," she grumbled in slight relief to herself.

Vanille saw her first, and even in the dwindling light she could see something was wrong. Immediately, without even saying hello, she asked Fang what was wrong.

"Go on back inside." the older Oerban said.

"What is it?" she asked, sounding a little worried already.

"I'll explain, just go on. And find Shilo, keep him close to you. _Go on_." Fang urged again.

With a hint of hesitance her younger sister relented. When Hope began to follow, Fang grabbed his shoulder, turning him towards her. Gurthang looked up, tongue wagging and curious.

"What's the matter?" he wasn't blind or deaf. He could tell something wasn't right.

"Tell me, how do those lights work?"

"There are two switches, but only one of them is hooked up. It's beside the utility closet behind Bradley's desk."

"Why don't you go ahead and turn them on." she nodded.

"What's going on, Fang?"

"Just a bad, bad feeling." she looked away, out into the growing darkness of twilight. "Like somethin' big is hanging over my head and about to come down on it."

Perhaps his mind just couldn't compute that at the moment, as he looked back at her with a puzzled expression. He wasn't feeling whatever it was that had her so uncomfortable.

"Just trust me, would ya?"

"Okay," Hope eventually nodded and moved on.

Fang watched him walk away, and then her eyes fell to the ground. Gurthang was staring right back at her, his red and yellow eyes glowing.

"Stay with me a while, pooch." and she pat his head. "I might need the extra hand."

He barked.

(-)

Sabine watched from the pass, the last of the Nighthawks stirring into awareness as light dwindled in the valley below. She was tense, a steady, minor vibration humming through her body. Soon, any minute now. Phantom was feeling it as well, pawing the earth and huffing and puffing with anticipation.

Amala was perched beside her, teetering on a tiny outcropping of rock and resembling some bird of prey in her posture. The slits of her eyes were glistening, her vision razor sharp in the dark.

"I see much movement." she said. "Many humans are going inside."

"To sleep." Sabine said. "This may be easier than we thought." Though there was no honor in death while sleeping, she remembered there was no honor in her lord's death either. Vengeance itself was not an honorable thing, but she refused to let that stop her.

Although she was restless. Where was the one who had killed him? Where was Tezzim's murderer?

Then the cannon lights atop the center came on. A low growl resounded through the company of vampires.

"What magic is that?" Amala's lips flared back in a snarl.

Sabin frowned hard, her brow knitted tightly enough to almost hurt. "Any light can be extinguished." she huffed and stood up, striding confidently, with anxiousness in her steps towards Phantom. "Once the first one goes out," she said. "Bring them."

Amala eased away from the edge, watching as the mortal pulled herself astride the horse.

"What makes you think you can do it?"

"It isn't a question of thought. I know I must." it had always been that way. Don't think about it, don't contemplate if you can or can't. Do it. "I will give you the darkness you need." and then she kicked Phantom's ribs so he lurched into a steady gallop, down the slope of the pass and into the steppe. There he picked up speed, his hooves near silent as they pulverized the grass.

A few minutes passed before Sabine felt she was close enough. She stayed to the shadows as she circled the colony. Then she drew her bow.

(-)

Fang stalked through the camp, between the dwellings and around the center, keeping watch as she moved from one spotlight to the next. That uneasy feeling had yet to leave her, the tightness in her shoulders and chest lingering. Gurthang was even starting to feel it, sniffing the air and looking about.

Crickets had started chirping.

And maybe that is why she didn't hear the distant drum of hooves.

What she did hear was the brief and shrill whistle of something cutting the air, and then the crash of shattered glass overhead. The light around her blinked out, surrounding her in darkness. There was no shock aside from the small shudder of the loud noises, even as bits of glass came raining down. Damn it all, she knew something wasn't right!

In the distance Lightning had noticed the glow of the cannon lights come to life, which made her finally decide to return to the colony. And this casual occurrence quickly morphed into something more urgent when she saw one of them suddenly go out. But that wasn't entirely what made her kick Valkyrie into a gallop. It was the shadow. Something was moving around the settlement, something large that stayed out of the light and therefore out of sight.

As she drew closer, more shapes appeared, darting about only half seen. Lightning drew her gunblade, feeling her stomach suddenly twist. The hawks had come after all.

(-)

From inside the center, a crash erupted loud enough for everyone to hear. It rippled through the whole building. Something was going on outside.

"Oh dear." Raul was looking up, perhaps tracking the sound as it faded.

Bradley looked at the vampires, pushing his glasses up nose. "What is it?"

"We have company." Francisco said. "Perhaps I should step out, Raul?"

"Mayhaps. Surely there is someone who could use your help." and he grinned to his partner.

"Am I missing something?" the clerk was puzzled, to say the least.

"We talked this over once before, Mr. Bradley, those other vampires I told you about. You remember?"

"Oh." he felt his body tighten, his spine shiver.

"I don't suppose you have any weapons stored around here somewhere?" it was amazing how calm Raul was. Almost ridiculous how little he appeared to be bothered.

"Why, you need one?"

"Oh saints, no. I was just making sure you were prepared." and he smirked.

"Of course I am." and Bradley ducked beneath his desk, going through drawers as well as a lock box he had hidden under there. He produced two revolvers, a semi-automatic pistol, and a shot gun alongside a pile of ammunition.

Raul's slitted eyes shimmered. "Those are fancy."

"Quite. Wanna borrow one?"

"Not for myself, but perhaps one of the others might. If you don't mind."

"I get ya," Bradley picked up the shot gun and started shoving shells into the chamber. "I worry about that goat fellow."

"As do I." Raul stroked a revolver with his claw before picking it up. "How does it work? Just...point and click I suppose?"

"Yup. You'll want to flip the safety off first, then you're ready to go."

There was another loud bang, Bradley jumping but trying his damnedest to hide it. In truth, he was terrified. He didn't know what to expect.

"Thank you again. And good luck." Raul started on down the hall, knowing Shilo and the others would be there.

"Same to you."

And then another bang of something heavy crashing against metal.

(-)

Gurthang lunged at a Nighthawk as it drew too close, Fang's lance sang through the air and the blades swept through vampiric flesh. Blood splashed to the ground, and commotion rose as some colonists emerged from their homes. Some joined the fight against the twenty or more invaders, others drew back to hide. Snow was one of the few who came into the fray, unable to simply sit back while his family was threatened. It was a much welcomed pair of hands as the hawks seemed to come out of the word work, one after the other. And with only two cannon lights left working. Hope was also doing his best to bank the tide, his razor rings shimmering through the dark as they tagged a target, ripping through it.

"There's so many!" Snow growled as he laid one out flat, having greeted the vampire with his customary fist-to-face maneuver.

"Quit your whining!" Fang snarled, ripping the head of her spear free from a fresh body. She was able to only take one step back before a vampire fell on her, jaws open and claws gripping. Gurthang leaped to her aid, tearing into the back of the vampire's neck, biting and tugging until it let go.

On the other side of the colony, where vampires had yet to trespass, Han came into the dim glow of the lights, sweat glistening all over him, his skin reddened from running all this way. He had seen what unfolded as he drew closer and closer, his heart wrenching tighter with every step. He had prayed he hadn't been too late, and it was answered. But the gods certainly couldn't have cut it any closer. The vampires were here, ripping the place to hell in search of revenge.

He'd be damned is he would allow them to have it.

Never again, he chanted in his head, the fury building. Never again. They had destroyed his home once before. They would not do the same here.

With a guttural cry he jumped into the first Nighthawk he came across, his claws sweeping downward. His silver eyes widened with frenzy as the vampire fell, blood gushing from the roughly hewn slits going down its chest. Thrill shot through him, but it wasn't enough. His head jerked back and forth in search of the next one, not having to wait long to choose the a new target. Ravenous, maddened, Han tore into the next vampire, and the next, he decimated every single one that crossed him.

And there was no fear in him, not a trace of it.

_Never again. Never again_.

The chant chimed in his head even as he roared at the top of his lungs with rage. He would stop it this time, he would not run while others fought to protect him. He would force these fuckers back with his own hand.

(-)

The Nighthawks broke down the door of the Resource Center, piling into the newly opened passage in a teeming, thrashing mass. Six...seven...eight of them came clambering inside.

And Bradley was waiting, as was Shilo should they get passed him. The Leonin had seen to it that Vanille and Bard had hidden themselves away, knowing they were in no shape to fight back such a threat.

Bradley emerged from behind his desk, shotgun pointed towards the oncoming horde. A fresh wave of terror washed over him when he saw them, finally accepted they were real. He held the butt of the weapon tight to his shoulder, pulling the lever with one hand to chamber a round.

The lot of them clawed and howled towards him.

Then he pulled the trigger.

One vampire was struck with a steel slug, flying back with arms and legs in the air. The others surrounding him broke away in unison, like the wave of sound put off by an explosion, and then ducked low to the floor to continue on. Bradley was mechanical in his movements. Pump-pull-_BLAM_-pump-pull-_BLAM_, and so on, in a rhythm that was second nature. He killed three of them, wounded another, and missed before the shot gun was empty. He dropped it without a second thought and reached for the smaller handguns he had tucked into the waist of his pants.

More started to climb through the open door, and Shilo thought it time to lend his claws to the battle. Mindful of the loud blasting of Bradley's guns, he lunged for the first vampire he saw, talons outstretched.

Down the corridor, passed the infirmary, tucked away in a closet, Bard and Vanille stayed quiet, not moving in the dark, but listening carefully to the hell going on just outside. The ring of gunshots, the rumble of a Leonin's roar, and other sounds they didn't even want to identify.

Vanille had found the nearest corner and curled into it, otherwise paralyzed with terror. She didn't want to believe this was happening. She thought she was free! Her entire body shook, tense, the itch to bite her knuckle near impossible to overlook. Bard stood across from her, his ear to the door. If anyone happened to come down this way, he would know about it. Raul had given him the revolver, per his concern, and the satyr gripped it gently in one hand.

For some reason he didn't like the idea of being stuffed in here. Sure, he was scared stiff and knew there was no safer place for him right now, but he felt so powerless at the same time. This was something he was not comfortable with. Staying out of danger had never been a conflict of interest for him. Why had that changed?

Maybe it was for the thought that if shit really hit the fan, worst case scenario, he didn't want to die in a broom closet. That was no way to go. However, if you had mentioned this to him a day ago, he would've thought it just fine.

For several minutes they were perfectly still, perfectly silent, perhaps wincing at the resounding of a particularly loud noise. Bard's fingers rippled as he held the weapon, his mind at war with what he should do.

_No such thing as cowards, just men who don't know how brave they can be._

He almost believed it. In fact...

Bard turned slowly, quietly in the crowded space and knelt down. "Here, you hang on to this, lass."

"W-where are you going?" she looked him, eyes wide, her voice breaking. She almost didn't take the gun as he pressed it into her trembling hands. Last thing she wanted was to be alone.

"I'm goin' to have a look about, maybe I'll find your sister. Dinnae ya be worrin' now, you'll be fine." _Iffin' I dinnae get myself killed._

"Please don't leave me, please," came as a breathy, desperate plea, one hand gripping his wrist and tears falling from her eyes.

"It's all right, I promise. No one will find ya. Just stay quiet, aye?"

Vanille took a breath, holding in a choking sob before she spoke. "A-aye."

With a nod that hid his insecurities he straightened, reaching for one of his crutches before hesitantly poking his head out of the door. He found the corridor empty and stepped out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Vanille had never felt more alone in her life.

Bard crept down the stretch of hallway, limping close to the wall to the end. He leaned forward to have a look around the corner, towards the sounds of gunfire and snarling. He saw the still, outstretched and bloodied arm of a vampire's corpse on the floor, the sight forcing him to recoil. Bard fought to breathe, his cowardice threatening to overwhelming.

_You're out here now, Shamus McBardigan, and there's no retreatin'. So you'd best suck it the fook up and get movin'._

As if it would help him, Bard limped quietly forward once more, leaving the cover of the bend in the hall. What was he supposed to be accomplishing here, he wondered?

_Find Fang. Yes, that's what ya said you'd do. So do it._

Maybe she was somewhere inside?

A body flew across the corridor crossing ahead, a massive, furry form that stole Bard's breath. Shilo struck the wall hard, the aluminum giving in a dimple under his weight. The Leonin hit the ground and fell onto his side, still. Bard couldn't tell if he was still breathing. He found himself unable to move.

He wanted to scream as Amala stalked into view, blood streaked up and down her body. Terror had stolen his voice. The bondswoman's black eyes fell on him, her visage fierce yet collected in a predator's composure. She didn't chase him, didn't have to, she didn't even hurry her contemplative pace as she approached the petrified satyr. His breath quickened, loud pants leaving him as the vampire stood before him, looking down with a pressing gaze. Somehow he managed his eyes to meet hers, forcing a drip-drop of the fear down.

The vampire towered over him, an impending doom that breathed on him chilling exhales through flared nostrils.

His newly discovered instincts won out over his fear, and he swung his crutch at her without even thinking. If he had, maybe he would've considered the idea that Amala might have been around the block before, as she caught the impromptu weapon before it could strike her head. With just a twist and pull of her powerful arm she ripped it from his grip, tossing it to the floor.

He gaped. "Sweet teat of Am-_ack_!"

Amala clapped her clawed hand around his throat and slammed him into the wall.

"Where's the girl?" she inquired with startling composure, squeezing just a little.

Bard gripped at her arm, pushing, lifting himself to ease the sensation of choking. He couldn't speak, words leaving him as his breath was no longer allowed to move freely. His feet tucked up beneath him, his terror making him want to shrink until he disappeared.

"_Where_?" she snarled.

The loud noise startled him in the same way Hope's touch had in the marsh, and his reaction was identical as well. His legs kicked without him thinking, forcing his hooves into the vampire's midsection, connecting with pelvic bones and ribs. Amala stumbled back, hitting the opposite wall, dropping him. The vampire rolled on the floor, clearly in intense pain. Something had been broken. Still she stood, now furious and unable to hide it. She was slightly surprised to find the satyr already back on his feet.

Bard put up his fists, his back still against the wall for support. Fear was threatening to buckle his knees.

_You've started it now, ya stupid nanny, now you'd best finish it._

And he would, no matter what it took.

(-)

Lightning charged in on Valkyrie, blade swinging as she passed by a vampire. The Nighthawk dropped, his chest and chin split open. But they were not her target. She had her sights set firmly on whoever it was that had the bow, having spotted the arrows in the backs of bodies since she was close enough to see. It was that shadow, the one that circled the settlement just out of sight. Lightning was dead set on finding them, stopping them.

And she would have her wish.

Sabine had been biding her time, saving her energy in waiting for the one on the white horse. When she saw the mare and its rider her heart leaped, her jaw tightening with her grip on the bow. She tore a number of arrows from the quiver on her back, putting one to the string and another between her teeth. The rest she gripped in the other hand, using them steady the one she had notched. Sabine clenched her thighs, rising in the saddle and allowing the movement caused by Phantom's gallop not to reach her torso, keeping her aim steady.

She let one-two-three fly.

Lightning just heard the air whistling before she turned her head, feeling the wind pushing against the side of her face. Her skin blossomed with warmth, blood seeping from the paper-thin split left by the arrow that just missed. It had even run through her ear, leaving a gaping space where cartilage and skin had once been. She went onward unfazed, changing the blade to a gun and raising it to take aim.

Sabine heard the ballistics leave the barrel, loud bangs preambled by flashes of light in bursts of threes. She ducked low against Phantom, removing herself as an easy target, bullets passing over her by millimeters.

The two riders drew closer to pass one another. In a sudden change of strategy, Lightning made the gun shift back into the blade and swiped at Sabine. Yes, she had ducked away, but Light hadn't been aiming for her. She quickly wheeled Valkyrie around.

Sabine straightened, knowing she wasn't wounded. But she looked to her bow and found the string cut. No longer useful, she tossed it and the quiver away, not needing the extra weight. Phantom turned without her prompting, beginning his charge anew as his rider drew her own sword. It was a wickedly curved amalgamation between a sword and a scythe, and as she drew close enough to strike, it split in two and she lashed out.

Lightning was just able to perry the attack, surprised when one sword had become a pair. She wheeled once more, prepared this time to watch for two attacks at once. But when she looked, Sabine was not coming back for her, she had veered away and was riding into the colony. Naturally she followed.

Sabine needed to take the advantage away from her, knowing any fool could ride a horse on open ground. Only a seasoned rider could weave between moving bodies and buildings with any potency. Phantom plowed his way through the warring throngs, jumping the corpses and ducking around corners like he was turning on a dime. She knew the other rider was following, but only just so close behind. With a light tug on Phantom's mane the stallion slowed, just so, allowing his mistress to jump safely from his back. He would continue on as Sabine waited, giving off the illusion that she was still riding him.

Lightning pulled on Valkyrie's reigns to make her turn, sure as hell not expecting for her to shy just as she cleared it. The mare whinnied, rearing up and throwing Light from the saddle. She struck the ground hard, her back snapping straight and her head bouncing. Valkyrie bolted. She shook her head to clear her blurred vision, doing so just fast enough to see two blades on a crash course with her face. She rolled away.

Sabine had jumped in front of Lightning's horse, receiving the desired result. Now both were on foot. When she rolled out of the path of her swords, it didn't deter her from the offensive. She kept coming, swinging again and again, refusing to stop even as the three blades collided.

Lightning felt a modicum of shock pass through her. It was the one from the racetrack that beat her in the lap race, the one who had tried to force her out of the saddle.

What the hell was _she_ doing here?

Light forced her away, pushing with both feet to knock Sabine on her backside. Lightning hurried to her feet, ready for when Sabine would come for her again.

Sabine was fast, knew she was fast, and she struck in a flurry of conjoined sword strikes aiming to eviscerate the former soldier. The rage was starting to show, her once composed features twisting into a savage grimace. She struck harder, putting all of her weight behind every attack. It was a trance like state where everything was red, her foe shining the brightest crimson.

Light almost couldn't believe how this woman moved, every technique connected to the next, moving in circular patterns to maintain momentum. She'd never seen anything like it and did her best to keep up. It was not easy. There was no room for retaliation, all she was able to do was turtle up and hope for an opening.

Sabine could feel the fire in her veins, the force behind her strikes growing. She was going to kill this bitch if it took her last breath. She went for the ankles, the knees, her blades swiping in arcs and scissor-like motions but cutting only air. In a surge of effort she jumped, lunging forward in a somersault, bringing her blades downward from high above. Lightning raised her blade to stop them, only to have the weapon shattered by the impact. Where the blade and the hilt met it came apart, bolts, screws, and shards of steel flying through the air.

How in the gods' names did that happen?

Lightning stumbled back, feeling a pair of strong arms wrap around her as she retreated too closely to a Nighthawk.

"No, she's mine!" Sabine cried, hurling one of her curved blades to cleave into the vampire's face. "I will kill her!"

Not understanding what the hell had gotten this woman so bat shit mad, Lightning pulled the sword from the body, refusing to be unarmed any longer than was necessary. This did not stop Sabine. Nothing could stop her.

The weapon was unwieldy for the former soldier, the weight distributed in a manner she was not accustomed to. But she didn't have time to grow comfortable with it. Sabine was on the offensive once more, pressing her back still with heavy, continuous attacks.

Then there it was, an opening. With only one sword that she could easily use with one hand, Sabine had left her right arm idle. Lightning made a full turn, away from Sabine's swing, and struck out towards her unprotected shoulder.

The blade struck, but did not cut into flesh. It bounced, the impact vibrating back through it and into Lightning's arms, painful. Sabine actually paused, half laughing.

"How stupid do you think I am?" was all she said, a bitter rhetorical question. She shrugged her shoulder, revealing what had protected her from beneath the blood stained stretch of her sari. It was black and shiny, naturally bent to fit her shoulder. It was a plate of skin from a Royal, one of the large desert scorpions that Light had only heard about. Had Sabine actually killed one those in order to wear its hide?

But the pause was brief, and she began her attack anew, tireless. Lightning drew back, her mind abuzz with what to do. Maybe change the battlefield. Maybe closer quarters would hinder her, take away her ability to use that circular technique that clearly gave her the advantage.

Sabine gave chase.

(-)

The vampires' numbers were dwindling. Their bodies littered the ground, right beside the small handful of humans they had killed. Some had even turned tail and run, or limped away.

Fang was on her knees in the blood sodden grass, holding on to her lance to keep herself up as she struggled to catch her breath. She stank of blood and gore, droplets of it still running over her skin once having commingled with sweat. She wasn't hurt, just weary. It was a hard fight, one of the hardest she had ever been a part of.

Hope came over, looking just as tired, stained red just like her. As did Snow, who seemed a little scraped up, but free of any serious injuries.

"You all right?" the bruiser asked, breathless.

Fang could only nod, pressing her forehead against the support of her weapon once the motion was complete.

"I think...I think we stopped them." Hope was bent over, his hands on his knees as if he were about to throw up.

Gurthang started to bark, the three of them lifting their heads to see why. There was Han, his movements stiff and tired, blood dripping from his hand, covering his face and legs as he had trodden through the carnage. Gurthang circled his master's feet, delighted to have him back.

Fang found it in her to stand, almost unable to believe it. Staggering she went to him, holding out her arms once she was close enough to embrace him.

"You're alive," she breathed against him. "By the gods, how?"

"Just lucky, I guess." he panted. He would've hugged her back, wanted to, but wanted just as much not to share the mess on his hand. "I wanted to warn you, I tried to make it...sorry I was so late."

"Never mind, we made it." she tightened her hold about his neck. "Damn it's good to see you."

Han gave pause, stunned. No one had every said anything like that to him before.

"I'm so tired." he confessed after a long moment.

"Well met, ladies and gents," Raul greeted as he and Francisco appeared. "Looks like we've pushed them back once again."

"Where the hell have you been?" Fang lifted an eyebrow to them after having stepped back from Han.

"Those hawks were coming from everywhere." Francisco made sure they were aware. "We were just on the far side keeping them from ganging up on you."

She just then realized that they, too, were smeared with blood.

Gurthang continued barking, though, and he was no longer giving his undivided attention to his human. Once again they all looked, seeing a massive black shape standing some distance away.

"Who's horse is that?" Hope wondered aloud.

Han felt his heart sink, all fatigue leaving him as he tore away from his friends in a mad dash.

(-)

Somehow the two had taken their fight into the Resource Center, Lightning jumping over a pile of bodies that blocked the damaged entryway. Bradley was not at his his desk, and the center was otherwise quiet. This gave Light a small consolation: no one to get in her way.

Sabine came in right behind her, sword swinging with a hoarse cry. Lightning blocked the blow with her pilfered weapon, but earned a firm kick to the chest in return. She hit the floor, scrambling to get back on her feet. Sabine just kept coming, unrelenting, unforgiving.

Lightning waited for her to thrust the weapon, and hooked the end of it with the bend of the other, ripping the weapon from Sabine's grasp with a firm jerk. You think that stopped her? Not a chance in hell. Sabine quickly slipped in close, resorting to unarmed combat. She hurled her fists into Light's ribs at blinding speeds, suddenly spinning to connect her heel with Lightning's cheekbone. The force was enough to send Lightning twisting back to the floor, blood spilling from her split lip, the sword tumbling from her hands.

Before she could grab it, Sabine kicked it away, then reached down and gripped her hard by the hair to pull her up. Blows to the face, one after another, then she hurled Lightning against the wall before delivering a hard drop-kick to her midsection. Lightning was beginning to severely second guess her plan to come in here. The restricted space, though she would've swore this hallway was narrower, didn't seem to hamper her at all. And Light had only seemed to trap herself. If only this bitch didn't move so damn fast.

"I _will_ kill you!" Sabine screamed. "I will destroy you, just as you destroyed _me_!"

"I don't even know who the fuck you are!" Lightning protested, just dodging a punch that dented the wall beside her head. She then took a page from Fang's book, seeing the opportunity, and threw her head into Sabine's face. It was a blow hard enough to split the skin on the bridge of her nose and draw blood heavily from it. Sabine smeared it away, barely fazed.

Lightning kept pressing, having only a shred of leeway against her. She pushed, throwing punches, kicks, anything to lay the hurt on her. She harassed Sabine into the nearest wall, simply refusing to believe she could move so fast as to not be touched by a single attempt.

Sabine saw the next punch coming, straight on, and raised her hands to catch it at the wrist. With a turning step she twisted it around to Light's back, but she didn't stop there. She thrust her knee into Light's tailbone, hard, a slamming motion that forced the other woman off the ground. She hit the floor face first, her arm still twisted. Again Sabine didn't stop. She twisted the limb in such a way, slowly, like wringing out a wet rag, until Lightning screamed at the same moment that the bones snapped in several places. Then she stomped hard on the crease of her shoulder, feeling another bone give.

Only then did she step away. She wanted to watch the bitch squirm, to watch her suffer.

Shocking, stabbing agony crackled through her, her right arm flopping uselessly beside her. Tears filled her eyes, hot and stinging, a natural reaction to the intense pain. She screamed into the floor, unable to keep it back.

"_Get up_!" Sabine roared. "I'm not finished. _GET UP_!"

"Sweet Christ," she muttered pitifully. "Who the hell are you?"

"Who am I?" Sabine sounded insulted, disgusted. "I was to be the bride of the man you murdered!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You killed my lord in cold blood!" she sobbed, unable to keep it in any longer. "And all over some slave whore!"

So this is what it was all about? For fuck's sake.

Lightning somehow managed to force it down, the throbbing pain, and stand. She turned to Sabine, holding her shattered arm.

"Maybe," she breathed, trying to reign in her composure. "Maybe if he hadn't been such a pig...I wouldn't have had to kill him. He had his chance."

Sabine's fury broke, her savage grimace dissolving into a rigid frown. She wept into her hands, falling to her knees. This allowed Lightning to rest against the wall, no longer feeling threatened by the diminished, vindictive warrior. She let her head fall back, eyes closed as she still tried to cope with the horrendous throbbing in her arm and shoulder.

After a brief moment, the crying stopped, and Sabine stood, half turning away from her crippled opponent.

"How could you?" she whimpered.

Lightning contemplated the question, forcing herself to straighten, taking a half step closer. "There are some things in life you just do. Never mind how."

Sabine nodded slowly, her fist shaking. "I guess...yes, you're right. Some things you just do."

Lightning suddenly had a funny feeling. Why had she so abruptly drawn back. Had the trapped emotions of grief and fury finally broken lose, sucked the fight out of her? Or had she simply...changed her strategy?

Sabine twisted, bringing her far side around and stretching out her arm. She wasn't close enough to Lightning to hit her, but she was more than close enough for something else to do it for her. Lightning didn't even see what happened, only stumbled back against the wall once more when she felt a sharp pinch at her throat. What the fuck was that? Once the initial shock passed, she could see what had happened.

And now is when I think it best to tell you what Sabine's Kes'shian name means.

Meh'Hana. Charmer.

It was more of a title than a name, one that was rarely ever used in all the corners of Gran Pulse. It was something else the people of the desert had found special about her. She had been able to break Phantom when their most skilled beast masters could not, and many of the animals domesticated by the clan would follow her around. Those in the wild would also shadow her from time to time, even the most sacred of creatures to the Kes'shi...

Serpents.

It had been hiding in the satchel Sabine had strapped about her waist, and while she had her side turned away from Lightning, she had reached out to it, calling in her mind for it to slither out of its hiding place and coil about her arm. Then she turned, giving it the silent order to strike. And now it sat in Sabine's palm, nearly three feet long, its head raised and fangs flared.

The serpent was a dusky, sandy color with electric blue eyes and black spots all down its back. Within the dark splotches were neon blue rings, and out from its neck flared a pair of fleshy - what resembled - wings, bright red and dotted with yellow. It hissed, its slitted eyes fixed on Lightning.

The Kes'shi had taught her how to hunt, they taught her how to fight, but it was the desert that had taught her how to kill. As mother nature could be the cruelest bitch there is.

Lightning began to feel panic crawling up her back. What was that thing? Was it poisonous? She didn't feel sick, in fact the tiny pinpricks on her neck barely hurt. With that being said, she still had to wonder the consequences of being bitten. Sabine wouldn't have bothered for a snake that couldn't kill someone. Or would she?

Sabine lurched her arm forward once more, giving the snake enough momentum to hurl itself across the some foot wide gap between it and Lightning. She saw it coming this time, sweeping the reptile away with her good arm. What she didn't see was Sabine's true intention. Hidden beneath the plate of Royal skin she pulled a dagger, and forced Lightning up against the wall as she shoved it forward.

Lightning felt the blood rush out of her face, her breath leave her lungs in a burst of air as Sabine's shoulder drove into her chest. Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped in a silent scream. She shuddered, the tip of the dagger scraping against the metal wall behind her. She felt the vibration through her stomach. And I mean _through_ it.

"Farron!"

Sabine was the only one of the two that reacted to the voice, her head twisting to see Bradley standing beside his toppled desk. Just as she yanked the knife free, motioning to throw it at him, he raised the other, still loaded revolver and pulled the trigger.

The two of them fell at the same time, both weapons having hit their mark.

Then Lightning slumped to the floor, sliding down the wall and leaving bloody streaks as she went. Blood began to darken her lips, and she fell onto her side.

Then Han and the others came stumbling through the entryway, horrified.

Author's Note: Another cliff hanger, ha-ha! Everybody having fun yet? Hope so, because I cranked this out in one day, ONE DAY. Hopefully it isn't written in a way that you can tell. Just wanted to say thanks to everyone for the Favorite Story +'s, and all that. I deeply appreciate it. Heavy drama a comin' next chapter, so hold on to your butts. Gonna have to face the music.


	36. Chapter XXXV

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

Teh'Han nearly tripped over a cold vampire body as he entered the center. He saw what lay within, his stomach tumbling like a two-ton weight into his feet.

Lightning lay there in the floor, blood spilling heavily from the wound in her stomach and from between her half parted lips. He froze, losing what strength he had and no longer able to stand. His knees struck the floor.

"Claire!" Snow barreled inside, going to her without another thought. His head twisted over his shoulder. "Hope, go get a doctor, _go_!"

The young man was gone in a flash.

Fang found herself stopped in the entryway as well, stunned, the color gone from her face.

"Come on, sis, wake up," he gathered her into his arms, seeing her eyes closed. "Wake up, talk to me."

Her lids fluttered and she was still breathing. The blue-green between the lashes was dim as they settled briefly on him.

"Hold on, okay? We'll get you help." and he picked her up like she was nothing, knowing the best place for her right now was the infirmary. "Jesus Christ."

Fang fought her way out of the stupor, her body shaking as she searched the area for someone to blame. She recognized the dark hair of the woman on the floor and rage shot through her like a drug, heroine and fury. It was that bitch from the conservatory. With heavy strides she went to stand over her, finding Sabine alive but with a gaping bloody wound in her chest. She bent over her, grabbing the front of her leather bodice and forcing her up.

"What have you done?" Fang's tone was acidic, lethal.

Sabine sputtered, what should have been a laugh. "I did...what I had to...j-just like you."

"Did you have to come here, do all this harm?"

"Yes." there was no hesitation. "For my lord's sake. Now he has been avenged...and his soul can be at peace...along with mine."

At first she didn't know what that was supposed to mean, then she felt the silky shiver of scales against her leg. She looked back to see the snake, no longer hissing with aggression but simply slithering about its way. Fang felt herself pale again.

"How do we stop it? Hey, you hear me? _How the hell do we stop it_?" she was screaming now, demanding an answer as Sabine dwindled.

"How," she breathed, "h-how does one...stop the ferryman...when his boat is already full?" and she laughed quietly, with finality, and then passed on.

Fang let go, not lingering a moment longer on her as she stood. With a cutting gaze she looked down on the serpent that had coiled up beside its former companion, and then crushed its head beneath her boot.

"By the saints...Maestro Sinclaire," Raul gasped.

"What a mess." Francisco agreed as he looked about. What a damnable mess.

Hope reappeared in that instant with the colony doctor and his entire crew behind him. They hurried right in, passed the bodies they knew were long since gone, and rushed down towards the infirmary.

Han was still in the middle of the corridor, unable to move even as Gurthang licked his face.

"I...I was too late." he breathed. He felt empty, and yet busted up inside.

Fang turned to him, kneeling beside him. "Come on, big brother. Let's see if we can find anyone else still living." She needed to know if Vanille was okay, and if she wasn't, Fang didn't want to have to face that fact alone.

Somehow he stood at her behest, finding the power to walk on his own. Francisco and Raul went with them.

Bradley was dead, the knife having gone right into his forehead. But he had taken at least a dozen vampires with him.

Shilo was alive, but had a nasty bump on his head. Amala had taken him by surprise, beating the living crap out of him until he couldn't get back up. But he came out of his dazed state almost immediately when he saw that his _ae mot_ was indeed still alive and standing over him.

They found Bard against the wall in the next corridor, Amala's body nearby. His head lolled limply on his neck, from side to side, as he fought to stay conscious. He had a black eye, and his nose and lip were bleeding. He had a concussion. Fang went to him, shaking him gently to try and get his attention.

"Issat you, Miss Fang?" his head tipped back against her shoulder and one of his eyes opened.

"Yeah, nanny, it's me. You okay?"

"Oh aye, just a we dizzy is all. What about you?"

"I'll live."

"That's good." he tried nodding, but winced instead. "I was brave, Miss Fang. Finally I stuck out my chest and took it."

"Did you now?" the laugh was defiled with half a sob.

"I did. Vampire tried to take me down, but I got her first." he had crushed Amala's skull with a well aimed kick. "She wanted me to tell her where the wee lass was...but I wouldn't."

"Why did you go and do that? You could've gotten yourself killed, you stupid goat."

"Because," he took a breath. "If I hadn't, Miss Vanille might have gotten hurt, and if that happened...it would've made ya cry. An' I cannae stand teh see ya cry."

"You're an ass." she laughed and cried at the same time. The emotions were swelling up in her like a riptide and she just couldn't hold it back.

"That's fine. I can live with that. It beats bein' a coward."

"Where is she, Bard? Where's Vanille?" she had to shake him as his eye threatened to close.

"She be down the hall a ways, in the closet."

"I'll go, you stay with him." Francisco offered, taking off.

"You did good, Bard." Han found it in him to say. He really was proud of the little fellow.

The satyr forced his good eye open a little wider, the amber meeting with silver. "Oh, there ya are, old man. So ya made it back then? That's swell."

_BLAM-BLAM_!

Everyone jumped at the unexpected sound. Raul went running as if it were a reflex, turning the corner and heading for the source.

Francisco was on the floor, rolling stiffly on his side, the closet door hanging open.

"Go, Miss Fang, I'll be fine. The lass needs ya."

And she went without hesitation. She had to.

"Oh my god." she gasped quietly, seeing what Raul had seen. She hurried down the hall and stopped just shy of the open door. She looked down as Raul gathered up Francisco, swearing under his breath.

"Vanille?" she called out, cautious. When she received no answer, "It's me, Fang. I'm coming in."

She eased around the door, looking into the darkened space. There she was, back to the wall, arms trembling as they were locked, straightened, the revolver clutched white-knuckled in her hands. She gasped for air, tears streaming down her face from the corners of her terror-widened eyes.

"Francisco," Raul breathed, his voice unsteady.

"I'm afraid I must have...scared the poor girl." Francisco seemed confused, as if he should have seen this coming and was curious as to why he didn't until now. "Maybe...it would've been better...if I had knocked first."

"Francisco, don't, please." Raul pleaded. The holes were in his chest, going through his heart. Even a vampire wasn't so mighty as to escape from that.

"It's all right," Francisco's eyes seemed vacant as he reassured his dear friend. "Life goes on. And think of it this way...now you can fall in love all over again. Remember how much fun we had doing that?"

"Yes," Raul found a smile somewhere within his twisted insides. "Such an adventure."

"And now you can have a brand new journey. Enjoy it. Be happy. Just...remember me."

Raul didn't cry as his partner passed, didn't weep with grief as many others would have. Instead he was overcome with shock. Vampires were not accustomed to death, living as long as they did, and it always seemed to take them by surprise.

Fang stepped into the closet slowly, carefully reaching for the weapon. "Take it easy, that's it,"

When her hand curled over her sister's she pushed downward, the barrel of the revolver to the floor. Then it was safe to move as normal. She gathered Vanille up in her arms.

"What happened?"

"His eyes," she sobbed, trembling. "I saw his eyes and...and," and then she couldn't stop crying. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean it!"

"Shh," Fang soothed, her heart twisting. "Shh, it's all right. We know you didn't mean to."

And shockingly enough, Raul did. He had seen so many slaves in his life after having freed them, he knew of the fears they fought from day to day. He had seen them in the throws of terror just at the mere thought of a vampire.

His kind's eyes tended to glow in the presence of diminished light, and that was surely what had startled Vanille enough to shoot Francisco. She had been surrounded by so much violence, so much fear, and then someone - a vampire - invaded what she felt was her refuge. He knew it wasn't out of malice or hate, and so he could handle it. He could find forgiveness. Though the pain was immense. He and Francisco had been together for almost one hundred and fifty years.

"I didn't mean to!" Vanille wailed into Fang's shoulder. Killing anyone, anything, was against the very core of her nature. And she was feeling the trespass as a stabbing sensation in her heart. My gods, what had she become?

"Fang, is she okay?" came Hope's gentle voice.

"Yeah, she's shaken up pretty bad, but she's all right." Fang found the revolver and pulled it from her sister's grasp. As she stood, she lifted Vanille with her, turning towards the young man. "Here, watch her for me."

"Of course." and he took Vanille's hand, leading her along beside him. He too saw what had happened, did the math, and thought it best to get her away from it.

"I'm so sorry." Fang bent down beside Raul. "Is there...what can I do?"

"There is nothing." Raul shook his head, completely composed. "Actually, now that I consider it, we had been lucky to make it so long. I had accepted some time ago that this would happen someday. Though...can't say I was really ready. We were still having such a great time." and he looked to the human, his eyes holding onto all the sadness he wouldn't allow to show on his face. "But Francisco was right. Life goes on."

"You are something else." Fang marveled, wondering what his secret was. Maybe vampires just saw things differently. "You sure there's nothing I can...maybe get for you? You need some help?"

"Oh no, I can manage. But you have friends still who need you. Go, be with them."

She stood, lingering a moment longer. Then she held out her hand. "Come on, you're a friend too."

Raul looked up, surprised, maybe even confused. "But what about,"

"It'll be taken care of, I promise. Even if I have to do it myself. But don't make yourself be alone, come on."

And Raul took her hand. They went back the way they came, gathering up those of their party that still breathed.

All of them had lined up and were sitting against the wall across from the infirmary. And now Serah had joined them, unwilling to stay home alone and bringing baby Lora with her. It was an easy decision that Snow had to do little to talk her into, doubly so once she heard Lightning had been hurt. All of them were waiting anxiously for any word. The doctors had been in there, behind closed doors for nearly an hour now.

Lora started to fuss, and Serah could do nothing to soothe her. Snow took her, thinking he could do better. He rocked her, bounced her in his arms, whispered not formed words but just sounds intended to ease the baby's worries. But that didn't help. Eventually the child simply started to cry. She wasn't hungry, and her diaper was clean. So what was wrong?"

Shilo leaned over, looking on. "She senses your anxiety."

Serah and Snow both looked back at the cat.

"May I?" and he held out his massive arms. "I am a father too."

Serah and Snow exchanged glances, wary.

"Just let me try. I won't run off with her."

The two eventually relented, passing the baby to him still somewhat hesitantly. The Leonin cradled the child in his broad embrace and held her high against his chest. He started to purr, looking down at the baby with a gentle face, and already her crying eased but didn't cease. He gave her his large finger, the claw retracted, something to distract her from all the adult troubles swirling around.

Shilo then graduated to bouncing his arms, much like Snow had, and making a strange sound that was an odd mix of huffing and warbling. The parents watched him, mystified as their daughter was pacified in the arms of a stranger.

"If you are calm, so are the cubs." he said softly, smiling as Lora gabbed at the dangling tresses of his mane.

"Thank the gods the little tyke is too young to remember this." Fang shrugged, genuinely glad of the fact.

"Aye," Bard responded, though he hadn't even heard what she said. His consciousness came and went, blood still seeping from his nose. "Sweet teat of Amalthea," he groaned. "My head."

"It's all right, nanny, we'll get ya somethin' for it as soon as we can." she assured him, receiving a half limp smile in return.

The door to the infirmary suddenly swung open, one of the doctor's helpers dashing down the hall for the storage closet. He came back but seconds later, a large plastic container in his hands that was labeled "O-negative". The feeling of dread that resounded through the lot of them as he disappeared was palpable, as thick as a fortress wall.

"What on earth happened to her?" Raul's tone was that of astonishment.

"I don't know." Snow shook his head, looking guilty, as if he had been the cause of her injuries.

"Something bit her." Fang said, playing on what she had gathered from what she had seen and what Sabine had said in her last moments.

"What something?" Raul's eyes thinned, curious.

"Some snake. Had bright blue rings all down its back. Bright blue eyes."

"_What_?" Raul jumped to his feet. "Sweet saints help us." Without even knocking, apparently a shared habit, he strode right into the infirmary.

He knew what Sabine had done.

That particular serpent was only found in the farthest, most desolate regions of the Sepulcher. It was known by the natives as _Teh'meh Haddai_. The killer of kings. It was an ambush predator, like many reptiles, and could be easily identified, and thus avoided, by its markings.

Its venom did not kill, at least, not right away. It was a particularly nasty ploy on nature's behalf to make the toxin somewhat...delayed. It would bite its prey and then shy away, watching it as it fled. Then, some time later, it would follow the tracks and find the body somewhere further on.

Its venom was not lethal, but the symptoms from having it introduced into the blood stream were. It wore away at the arterial walls, thinning the veins and capillaries until they were the consistency of wet Kleenex. Then, once the blood pressure rose high enough, it would incite systemic, body wide hemorrhaging.

Already the bed linens and floor were spattered and stained red, smeared by footsteps. God, it was everywhere.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" the doctor protested as he hovered over the patient.

"I'm here to help. Now if you wish for this woman to live, you will listen to me. If not, then feel free to carry on as you are." and Raul was dead serious, his eyes unblinking as he stared at the mortal.

The medical staffed shared a brief period of ping-pong eyeballs, exchanging timid glances, before the doctor relented.

"Fine, what do we do? She's losing so much blood."

"Just do exactly as I say, and do it fast."

Raul's lessons in sorcery from his father Altaire had required him to become fluent in many different animals species, since their body parts were often crucial components for certain magical rites. But half of those lessons were comprised of how to catch said animals, and what to do should they harm you.

The former saint had been a wonderful teacher. Though he never made allowances for the victim to have gone this far without treatment. A small part of Raul was uncertain if he could do anything that would genuinely help.

Lightning was barely aware, but could feel the horrible burning coursing through her. Acid in her veins. It was the only thing keeping her from slipping into the welcoming blackness that was threatening to drag her under. Was she even breathing? There was a sensation of floating and then nothing else. If Sabine had waited but a minute more, waited to force steel into flesh, she would've felt the full force of the venom's presence. Something she might not have been able to take now.

There were muffled voices, half formed words that echoed in her distorted thoughts. She could feel herself losing grip...with everything.

She couldn't see, but feel as what were once small cuts began gushing blood like they were gaping wounds. Bruises grew and darkened from small and distinct blemishes to splotches of bright red and purple in a matter of minutes. The small shiner on her brow from the kick she received had grown to encompass almost half of that side of her face. But the worst of the visible damage was around the bite mark. The bruise was tremendous, threatening to circle her entire neck.

The smaller veins were already starting to dissolve, the pressure of her own struggling heartbeat tearing through them as they gave in to the snake's toxins. Next would be the bigger ones within the few following minutes, then the major arteries after perhaps a half hour, and then...well...

Lightning would die.

The knife had ripped through her liver and put a tiny perforation in the outer wall of the stomach. Though serious, it shouldn't have been bleeding so much. If they didn't do so something soon, there would be no saving her even if they could halt the effects of the venom. She was daring to flat-line already. But surgery was the only way to repair the damage.

"Step aside, please," Raul pushed his way towards the head of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Saving her life," he bit back, not wanting to deal with the human's small talk at the moment. "Now, I suppose you'll have to go in, yes? Very well. I'm going to count down from ten, and when I get to zero, get to it as fast as you can. Even if some of these noisy contraptions are going off. Understand?" common sense and hearing told him that one of those blinking, beeping things was monitoring her heart.

Reluctantly the doctor nodded.

Raul eased his hand beneath Lightning's head, his fingertips searching for something he knew would be there. He had studied this technique for years. It was a tiny spot, coin sized, that rested just below the hem of the skull, where it met the neck. It was only distinguishable by the slight bump of bone. Once certain he had found it, he shut his eyes and started to quietly chant. He summoned up a minor spell, a pulse of energy that was mild in comparison to what he was actually capable of. It was just enough to stimulate the pressure point.

He started counting, feeling the energy coursing through Lightning's broken body. It was like sending the body a signal, a coded message. He was telling the heart to cease pumping. And slowly, as he counted closer to zero, it would stop. Why was this a good thing? Well, think of it as hitting a reset button. And once her heart started again it would be at a normal pace, not quickened or threatening to burst itself.

"Two...one..._now_."

The machines started going crazy, chiming and screaming that something was terribly wrong. The humans in the room, long since accustomed to it, weren't distracted. Though it hurt Raul's ears something awful. But he had to stay focused. If he lost concentration, he might lose the spell, and that could be disaster.

Stitches were tied and tightened, and an organic epoxy patch was placed over the perforation in the stomach which would later be absorbed by the body. Then the humans worked swiftly, masterfully, to seal the stab wound itself.

"Okay, that's done."

Raul only nodded, still having a tight grip on the sorcery. He had to count again, pulling the spell back slowly as not to shock the body. But as he reached zero, the machine's manic noises didn't stop.

"Still no pulse," one of the nurses announced.

Raul paled. This wasn't supposed to happen. Why wasn't her heart working again? Where had he gone wrong? Panic flooded him.

The pressure was simply too low, there was nothing to make her heart pump.

"Get the paddles."

Raul stepped away, helpless as he watched.

"Three...two...one..._clear_."

Her body jumped on the bed.

"Again." the doctor's voice was level, steely. "Two...one..._clear_."

Lightning's form jerked again, her chest thrusting upward as the charge went through her.

"Once more." and it would have to be only once. Any more attempts and they were looking at serious damage. "Two...one..._clear_."

And her heart finally responded. Everyone watched the machines for a long, tense moment, as the numbers steadily rose and eventually settled.

"Blood pressure is holding." the doctor breathed with relief. "Let's finish up here, people, there's bound to be more that need us."

Raul stepped out and felt the weight of everyone's heavy gaze on him, his breath forced quietly from his body. He saw the Serah had begun to cry, cradled against her husband's chest. The others exuded palpable despair. He almost couldn't take it.

"I did my very best. If she can pull through the next hour...the venom should be out of her system." and then he went back to where he had once been sitting, sliding down the wall. He tucked his head between his knees, tired and unwilling the bear the burden of their eyes.

Han sat on the end of the line along the wall, his head tipped back, his eyes open but distant. Self-reproach rippled through him, and a pain he hadn't felt to be so fresh in many years.

He had been too late. He was sure of it. If he hadn't slept so long in the dirt of the pass, or hadn't stopped to accept Fang's warm welcome, maybe he could have stopped this. Maybe he could have saved...

His heart clenched, his face twisting at the hard, pressing pain in his chest. But even that wasn't enough to completely banish his fatigue. He was still so tired, and didn't resist when a deep sleep beckoned him. Gurthang curled up beside him, giving his master some warmth and comfort. As if he knew.

Vanille was faring no better than her tribal brother. She had her own demons to fight at the moment. More had died, more innocent people had been killed because of her. One of which she had murdered with her own hands. Why? Why did it have to be like this? Why didn't she just let the vamps kill her? None of this would have happened. Why did she even have to be born, when all she had done was cause so much misery? She shuddered in Hope's arms, simply unable to stop the guilty tears.

Fang watched Vanille as she rode out whatever she was feeling, and it tore away at her. What could she do? There was no undoing this, there was no way to make it okay. She was powerless once again. Even now as her best friend lay in the next room, maybe dying, she couldn't do a damn thing but sit on her rump. It was enough to make her want to puke. Fang could almost feel the bile bubbling up her throat.

In time, within the next hour, the doctor emerged from the infirmary, blood all over the front of him.

"I need to speak to the family."

"We're all family." Fang proclaimed flatly.

"Aye, can ya not see the resemblance?"

The doctor blinked. After a moment Snow stood up. "What's going on?"

"Well...it's a bit double sided." he responded hesitantly. "Thanks to...you're friend, Miss Farron made it through the worst of it. She's stable for time being."

There was a quiet breath of relief from everyone, at least those who were still awake.

"So what's the bad news?" Snow knew it was coming, thought he was ready to hear it.

"Well, we've done some tests to determine any other injuries, and while we found a few minor contusions and other head trauma, none of them are enough to cause the state she's in."

"Which is?" Snow's brow furrowed, his blue eyes thinning.

"To put it simply, Miss Farron is in a coma." he said as plainly as possible without sounding uncaring. "And what with the injuries to her head so minor, I can only assume it to be a physical fail safe."

Serah stood up, standing beside Snow. "What do you mean?"

"Your sister lost a great deal of blood, and there were other injuries that were much more severe. Her body is trying to recover by shutting down all unnecessary functions in order to do that, such as consciousness. Although, I need to ask, has this happened before?"

"Yes." Serah nodded, ignoring her husband's look of surprise. "When we were younger. She was in the accident that killed our parents. She was hurt pretty bad."

"How long did it last?"

"About a month or so. I can't rightly remember." she shook her head, her gaze lowered.

"Well, all we can do now is wait. As it stands I'd say, with confidence, there's maybe a seventy-thirty chance of her coming out of it. But that could change. I can tell you more once we know."

Snow put his arm around Serah. "All right. Thanks doc."

"Of course. Is there anyone else that needs me?"

"Our goat buddy got smacked around pretty hard, he's having trouble staying awake."

"Then he's next." before he stepped away, the doctor said one more thing. "Don't lose hope. These things aren't set in stone."

"I know." and Snow forced a smile, only letting it fall when the doctor had walked away.

Fang watched as Bard was lifted up and helped into the infirmary, his leaning forward allowing droplets of blood to spatter to floor when he stood. When the door closed once again, she stood up. Slowly, heavy.

"So that's it?" she asked. "So all we can do is just...is just stand here? _That's it_?"

Snow was the only one to look at her, Serah pressed against his chest. "Fang, I..."

Fang's breathing hastened, her fists clenched and her body shook. "That can't be it. It can't be, gods damn it it all; _it can't_!" tears welled up and fell from her eyes without her meaning them to. One could only imagine the degrees of anger and anguish that were ripping through her. Yes, Lightning had survived, but at what price? She was laid up in a bed, unable to move or speak, for what might be for good. What the hell kind of a consolation was that? Lightning had fought so hard for them, for _all of them_ time and again...why her? Why this? Why in the gods' names did they had have to keep losing in order to win?

Fang raked her scalp with both hands, nearly drawing blood as she dragged her nails, her face twisted up in furious defeat. She turned, hunched, still shaking as she faced the wall. She leaned against it, her heated forehead against cold, unfeeling aluminum. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she fought back the sobbing that clawed at her insides. Instead she punched the wall, the impact reverberating through the entire building. She punched it again...again, this time harder...and again...then with both hands in quick succession until she couldn't hold it in anymore. The once proud warrior sank to her knees and openly wept.

Otherwise everything, inside and out, was as quiet as a grave.

Shilo sat with the baby a while longer, listening and watching. After a long moment he stood, going to return Lora to her parents. He then padded over to where Fang still knelt, still cried, and crouched. She didn't fight the Leonin as he picked her up, carrying her back to where she had once been, and keeping a hold on her as he settled into what had been her place. He eased her down to sit beside him, and then stretched out his other arm to circle around Vanille. She in turn pulled Hope close to her, and he in turn reached for Raul. Snow and Serah came to sit with them as well, and with Gurthang's prodding, Han did also.

And this family, so mismatched and misplaced, so damaged, held on to one another. It was the only way they would make it through this hell.

_(-)_

Dawn came and it was all still the same. The bodies were where they had fallen, untouched all night, but all of the blood had since turned a dull rusty hue as it had dried.

Thirty bodies.

Thirty, if you counted humans and vampire's together.

They were all gathered, lined up and covered in sheets. Those that still remained went about them, identifying those they could. Aid from Cocoon had been sent for and would be here soon to help clean up this hot mess. And military assistance had also been requested, thinking it better to have the extra protection just in case. All that, along with a requisition for a new clerk. Until that came about, Bradley's assistant was stuck with everything, a mousy little runt named Eugene, and he had about as much confidence in his ability to do the job as a nun with C-4.

The road ahead looked like an uneven and treacherous one.

But what remained of our party had little other mind than to take it all in stride. Life went on, regardless of their pain, their guilt, their fatigue. The sun rose, the wind blew, with or without them. They helped gather the bodies, refraining from fully explaining the events of last night to anyone as they went. Most everyone already knew, but they didn't need to know why. Gods only knew what would happen if they had someone to point a finger at for this.

"I think that's the last of them," Snow said as he brushed his hands together. "Hope's doing one last walk-through to make sure."

Fang nodded, straightening and listening to tiny snaps and pops that came from her back. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, the mid day sun pulling the asshole card and making the air particularly hot. "Good."

"I'm surprised at how well he's dealing with it though," he shook his head. "You'd think he'd been around it before."

Considering that idea, Fang decided quickly, was unsettling. No one should have to see this many bodies, not in one lifetime, not ever.

"Serah and the baby okay?" she asked, suddenly thinking about them as her mind wandered away from what she was seeing.

"Oh yeah, just fine. Still can't believe Lora calmed down for Shilo, though. I thought he would make it worse." Snow was convinced the look of the Leonin would have scared her. But, then again, he had been wrong before.

"Shilo's just a big puss." she laughed a little. "Besides, he's got his own brood, he knows his way around a baby."

"Yeah, how many?" he was just curious.

"A dozen or more," she guessed. "Something like that."

Snow looked shocked. "Wow."

"What, jealous?" she actually smiled.

"Almost, though Serah would never go for it." he chuckled. "I guess one's enough for us right now."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of." Fang crossed her arms, shaking her head as she turned and started to walk. Snow followed beside her as she passed him.

He glanced towards her, seeing how her eyes were fixed on the ground, her brow creased gently at the center.

"You holding up okay?"

Fang took a breath, her head tipping back and her eyes closing briefly. "As best as I can...it's a lot to take in all at once." Honestly she felt like she was just barely holding. Fingertips clutching to the edge of a cliff, and beneath her; darkness and the gnashing of teeth.

Snow nodded. It was a lot for everyone.

"And Vanille?"

"I let her sleep. She needs it."

"Poor kid." he sighed. "Can't catch a break."

"Can any of us?" she countered, honestly seeking an answer. "I mean...for the last twelve hours all we've been given is a shovel full of shit. There's just no end to it."

"Well, yeah," he sputtered, "at least Shepherd made it home."

"There's that...not to sound ungrateful," her brow furrowed tighter. "It's just..._damn_."

"I know. It's like no matter how hard you try it just won't come out right. I get it." and he most certainly did, once you remember who he has for an in-law. "Personally, I'm just wondering what's going to happen now. I'm hearing rumors of folks planning to move out, go back to Cocoon."

"That so? Can't say I'm surprised. Maybe it's better that way."

"Hard to think all that hard work to build this place up, now its just crashing down."

"Story of our lives, eh?" her laugh was without any genuine feeling other than bitter sarcasm. Snow couldn't help but agree with her, his big hands in his pockets as he nodded his head.

Hope came striding towards them from around the center, something in his arms. They spotted him, becoming curious as to what he was carrying.

"What'd you find?" Snow cocked up one eyebrow as the younger man came to stand before him.

"It was in pieces. I found most of them." and Hope held out the remnants of the fractured gunblade.

"Good gods," Snow picked up a piece of it, turning it over as he inspected the fragment in disbelief. "What the hell was that bitch made of?"

Fang touched the slivers of cold steel, scowling. "Same stuff as you and me." and that was the scary thing.

"I could fix it...but it'll take a long while. I know dick about metallurgy, and some of this is going to have to be reforged entirely." some of the plating had been cracked, and some inner working joints had come undone. It was a bit of a mess, really.

"I'd say you've got your work cut out for you." Snow nodded, his hands on his hips.

"Yeah." he nodded. "Any more word from the doctors?"

"Not today." the older man answered. "But it's only been a few hours really."

"You're right." Hope corrected himself, sounding as though he thought his question was silly. "But...you'll let me know if there is, won't you?"

"Now _that's_ a dumb question," Fang crossed her arms. "What, are ya new?"

Hope shied a little.

"Lighten up," she mussed his hair, forcing a smile to reinforce the fact that she was just kidding. And then, without another word, she started walking on, leaving the boys to do what they will. Hope's question had tickled her own sober curiosity.

She went into the center, finding it in less of a mess than last night. Blood still stained the floors and the walls, some of them dented, but the bodies had been moved and Bradley's desk had been put right again. Raul was sitting there among the scattered papers and spent shells, Kibo sitting on his shoulder.

"Good morning," he greeted without looking.

"Same to you. Looks like your pet came back."

"Yes," he looked up this time, smiling briefly.

"What are you doing, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Not at all. I just...I needed to occupy myself, so I thought I would clean this up."

"Oh. You want some help?"

"Saints no," he sighed. "Thank you though. I just want to stay busy is all."

"I understand. Just let me know...you know...if you need something. Any time." she just couldn't ignore the need to help him, to make up for what happened.

"That's much appreciated." he nodded to her, hoping she would go on her way. It was taking all of his control to keep himself together, and she was distracting him. Not that he wasn't touched by her attempts.

"All right...if you're sure." and she started walking again, down the hall and out of sight.

She found Han and Vanille right where she had left them, huddled together, still in the floor. No one had the heart to wake them when dawn came, so someone fetched a blanket and let them be. The only change is that now Gurthang had draped himself across their laps, his massive head between his paws. It was kind of cute.

The dog perked up, looking about as she drew closer. Quickly she bent down and pet him, assuring the animal that nothing was wrong and that he could go back to sleep. She straightened, dwelling on Han a moment. He was scraped up and bruised, clawed and bitten all over. To think he had really survived that fall.

Fang then turned to face the door behind her, feeling her body suddenly become heavy. Her throat dried slightly as she reached for it, pulling it open.

There was hardly any light, but Fang could see once her eyes adjusted. Bard was the first thing her gaze settled on. A mountain of pillows had been stuffed beneath him to keep him in the sitting position, that making it harder for him to fall asleep. The blows he took to the head had been rather bad, enough that if he happened to doze off there was a chance he might not wake up again. She realized he was hooked back up to the morphine, and was surprised to see him move. Quietly she approached him, wondering if he was coherent or not. Most likely not.

Out of some strange impulse, she brushed a stray curl of hair from his face.

He stirred. "Who's there?" his eyes stayed closed.

"Just me," she answered gently. "Thought I'd look in on you."

"Mighty sweet of you." he said sleepily. His hand move, settling over hers as she leaned on the mattress. He halfheartedly gripped it, and raised it so that he might kiss her knuckles. "But...I'll be fine. Don't ya worry none. I'll be out of here in no time...maybe play another song for you."

"I'd like that, nanny. Really. But how about you just take it easy for now?"

"Aye...that would be best." and he released her hand, his awareness drifting.

When she knew he was no longer paying her any mind, since he hadn't any to spare, she took a deep breath.

She almost didn't want to turn around, knowing with some idea what she would see. Part of her simply didn't want to face it. Would you? Still, like everything else, she sucked it up and shoved it down. She turned anyhow.

Author's Note: Seemed like a good place to stop. Don't ask why. Just seemed right I guess. Hope none of this has turned out too corny for you, but hey, that's drama. The next chapter probably won't be much different, but just accept it as part of the story. I'm losing some steam, I'm afraid.

Also, something fun I'd like to do. I've been mulling over the idea of maybe getting the readers involved once again, but this time in a different way. Is there something you, the readers are wondering? Got any questions? Well, why not send them in a review or on my DA. If I get enough, I'm going to do a sort of interview for youtube, and I'd be happy to answer them myself. It can be fic related, art related, or even addressing me directly. Just keep it decent. Think of it as a kind of "twenty questions" sort of thing. Now, I know most of you probably don't give a crap, but I just thought it would be fun. See you next chapter.


	37. Chapter XXXVI

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

Never before had Fang seen Lightning laid so low, and they had been through some serious shit in the past. None of those experiences could compare to this. Her feet dragged as she approached the other bed, a scowl darkening her features. So many tubes and wires, damn machines beeping; they had to help her breathe. It was pitiful.

The damage had been done, and there had been plenty of it. The bruises were hideous, remnants of the havoc the snake's venom had wreaked. Lightning's shoulder had been shattered, the link between the ball in the socket and the long bone of her upper arm cracked right through. And there were three more fractures between the shoulder and wrist. Her entire arm was wrapped in a cast, and pinned to her side beneath a nest of bandages. That hid the dressings that covered her stomach, protecting the incision as a result of the stab wound. A compression bandage was around her neck, bits of more bruises peeking out around the edges.

Fang sighed heavily, feeling herself sort of shrink, pulled towards the floor.

"Gods damn it." she breathed, steadying herself against the bed. She didn't want to believe what she was seeing. "I...I should've been able to stop this."

Should've, could've, would've...didn't.

"I'd trade places with you if I could, but," she laughed a little, "you'd say the same damn thing if I did. Can't win sometimes, can we?"

There was no response. Like she could've expected one.

Tears were threatening again, Fang struggling to keep them back as if someone might see. She sniffed.

"Bradley didn't make it." she said, wiping her forearm beneath her nose. "Bitch got him too, but he got her back pretty good. Francisco's gone..." Fang felt herself wince. "The rest of us are okay, I guess. Jolted up, but okay."

Repeating the action she did with Bard, Fang grasped Lightning's other hand. "Han made it, Light. Showed up last night to fight the fuckers with us. Couldn't believe it at first, naturally."

Still no reaction, Fang's tiny, unspoken hopes dashed. One tear escaped down her cheek, falling to the floor.

"I...I think he's just as busted up over you as I am, at the very least. But he doesn't show it. And here I thought you two weren't getting along." the smile she forced crumbled, trembling. Her knees were threatening to give out on her, just like they had last night.

Lightning simply lay there, not even a stray spasm to be seen. Nothing but the aided rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

"We need you, damn it." she pleaded, half crying. "_I _need you. We fight all this time so we can be a family again and...and," she had to stop and breathe, to calm down. "It's just isn't home without you."

Fang wiped her eyes, rubbing hard until the skin reddened. She cleared her throat, reigning in her emotions until she was back in control. She straightened, and with one last deep breath she was able to speak again.

"You fight it, sunshine, you hear me? If you don't get your shit squared away soon I'm going to have to shake you again. And don't forget about that niece of yours, don't want her growin' up without her Aunt Claire do ya?"

Somehow that made her feel just an iota better. You know, just passing on a good old fashioned warning helps with the blues. She bent over the bed, placing a kiss to Lightning's forehead, and then she pressed her own forehead against hers as if to seal the mark.

"Don't you give up, Light," she whispered. "Because I won't. None of us will. Just don't let go."

And then she stepped away, finding it suddenly so difficult to move.

Outside in the hallway, Fang jumped a little when she turned after closing the infirmary door, meeting Han's gaze without expecting to.

"Christ man, scare me half to death,"

"Sorry." he smiled a little. "Is it still night out there?"

Fang shook her head. "Actually it's mid-afternoon. You've over slept."

"I was exhausted." he thought to excuse himself. "I went two days without sleep just to get here before the hawks did."

"I'm pulling your leg, you old sod, give me a break."

He smiled, dipping his chin. "So what goes on outside?'

"Just trying to clean everything up, you know." she crossed her arms.

Han nodded. "I'm going to go home, I think. I've been away long enough."

Gurthang's head perked up at the idea, his tongue wagging and flinging droplets of drool about.

"I think he agrees," Fang smiled, watching the dog stand up, stretching, and then patter around her legs. "And so do I. You look like crap."

"I feel it." he shifted a little, trying to get his hand beneath him without disrupting the sleeping girl that had curled against his side. It was a difficult thing to do as his joints creaked and pinched, his movements like the jerking of a pulsework automata. Fang knelt down and pulled on Vanille's shoulder, giving him clearance to stand up. She stirred, but ultimately didn't wake.

"She's so weary." Han sighed as he brushed off his backside, Gurthang starting to circle his legs now.

"Yeah." Fang answered somewhat sadly. "You think I could ask you a favor?"

"Of course."

"I...I was wondering if you'd be willing to let her stay with you."

His brow climbed, surprised.

"Just for a day or two." she elaborated. "She doesn't need to be around this right now...maybe some time away would help her."

There was sense in the request, Han realized. He only needed to contemplate it for a moment, finding no real reason to say no. He wasn't accustomed to long term guests, but he would just have to make due. He happened to look down and see Gurthang gazing up at him, his eyes almost pleading. Maybe the pooch just wanted a chance at a new playmate.

"I suppose that would be all right. Although I would feel better if you discussed it with her first." he tugged at his beard, cocking one eyebrow.

"Wassat?" Vanille woke in the middle of Teh'Han's sentence, only catching his last few words. "Discuss what?"

"Hey, sleepy head." Fang smirked. "Me and big brother were just talking about how you might feel to stay with him for a while."

"What? Why?" she was wide awake now, looking somewhat uneasy.

"Just thought a change of scenery would do you some good." her sister said. "Come on, it'll be all right."

"Don't force her, Fang." he countered. "_Wim tasa vest_."

"_Sol eh u'emah_." she disregarded him.

"Could you not talk about me like I'm not here?" Vanille shied away from her, clearly disapproving of their behavior. "I'm not a child."

Teh'Han winced. "I'm sorry, that was my mistake. I tend to slip into the old speech."

"No, Han, she's right. Didn't mean to do that." Fang could actually feel a twist of guilt. She was trying too hard to shelter her, but it was easy for her to do that. All she ever wanted was for Vanille to be safe, no matter what it took. "Sorry. So what do you think?"

Vanille could feel her heart pounding, a touch of anger in her blood. When it eased, she looked up at the rough, bruised up man that Fang had referred to as "big brother". He was big all right, but she couldn't see the resemblance.

"Well, no need for her to answer now," he smiled. "But let's go outside anyhow, it's stuffy in here."

Their short walk out of the center went uninterrupted, aside from a small cloud of awkward tension they passed through as they went by Raul. He continued to sort through the clerical mess he had been in before. The vampire didn't even acknowledge them, but Fang felt Vanille draw closer to her, as if shying away.

Once outside they tried to move through the settlement as quickly as they were able, not wanting Vanille to have to see the bodies still lined in rows in the grass. Thankfully though, the aid from Cocoon had arrived, and soon enough they would be removed. Out of sight, out of mind.

Gurthang sprang out in front as they came into the open steppe, bounding over the rises and falls of the landscape. He found an imp to chase, harassing the poor beast until he was bored. He returned to the humans, only to be distracted by something else that had moved moments later.

Han took a deep breath through his nose as they walked together, so glad to be back again. He never thought he would miss Archylte as much as he had. But now here was here, he was home. Life could eventually draw back into a form of normalcy. And with that, everything else could be taken in stride.

Fang and Vanille lingered behind a few steps, taking shorter strides than Han.

"Why do you call him brother?" Vanille asked quietly.

"Hm?" one dusky brow lifted as she half turned her head. "Well, because he is. I mean, not by blood of course, but we're not family by blood either."

"True," she agreed.

"He's not a bad man." Fang assured her. "He's just a little...odd. Still, he saved my life, and I only had to ask and he offered his help to find you. Never mind if I could pay him back, or that he was scared to death of going."

Vanille looked ahead, at Han, and then up to Fang, confused. "Scared?" No way, not a fellow that big.

"Oh yeah." Fang nodded. "He's never said so to me but...I'm convinced he was a slave once, just like you."

"How can you tell?"

"Just certain things, hints." her brow furrowed as she searched her mind. "Tone of voice, the way he carries himself sometimes...that, and he simply knew too much about how things in that city worked. At first it didn't click, but, you know."

Fang paused, giving Vanille opportunity to process what she said.

"I guess...it's one of the reasons I thought to ask him to let you stay with him a while. Maybe...I don't know, maybe I thought you could help each other...seein' as there's only so much I can do for you. I don't know what it was like for you, but he might."

Vanille didn't say anything, no comment seeming suitable.

"And it's just until things in the settlement calm down, that's all. I'll even come by and see you every day. If that's what you want, of course."

"Just let me think about it a while." there was just so much to consider. You would think it was a rather simple matter, but not for her.

"Sure. No rush."

After a while they made it to the pasture, up the earthen rises and into the enclosed field. Han was pleased to find it in as good a shape as he had left it, doubly so when he saw that the fruit trees were blossoming and the garden was green with new sprouts. He would have to be sure to thank Snow for his efforts while he was away.

Gurthang went bounding about the pasture, barking and startling the numerous sheep that wandered and grazed.

"There's so many," Vanille gasped quietly, a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth at the sight of the moving white puffs. "And chocobos?"

"You can stay out here with them for a while if you like." Han had paused, half turning. Then he went on. He wanted to be inside, to be surrounded by familiar objects, familiar scents. And he needed a pipe so bad he felt the need to bite. Bite what? Yes.

Fang followed him inside, watching him as he took a deep, deep breath of the air within. Nothing like coming home after a long time away. She stood near the open door while he went to the back of the house, beside the hearth, and pulled back the cellar door to go down the earthen steps. He kept the tobacco down there. He came back with a small cloth pouch of it, a pipe in his mouth. It wasn't as nice at the other, one roughly carved simply out of the necessity for a spare, but it was fine enough for him. He paused in the middle of the room just long enough to stuff and light it, as well as remove the armored sleeve from his arm. He took big puffs of it and exhaled the smoke with a groan of satisfaction.

"Ah, _meh eh tasa_." Life is good. And for the moment, it was.

"That's a happy face I haven't seen before." Fang smirked.

"Just the simple things, that's all a man should ever want." Han nodded, walking towards her in order step outside once again. The two of them sat beside one another in the grass, watching curiously as the animals started to gravitate towards Vanille.

"Odd." Teh'Han said from the corner of his mouth.

"Been like that since she was little. Never thought anything about it." Fang stretched her legs.

"Hmm," he took a couple of puffs. "_Meh'hana_?"

"Dad always suspected it, but he never said one way or the other. I guess he didn't want anyone singling her out. Can't say it would surprise me if it was true."

"That would be helpful. I may need her about the place until I'm feeling better. That fall was rather bad for these old bones."

"Looks like it." her blue eyes skimmed over his ragged form. "But I'd say you took the beating rather well"

"Indeed." and he laughed quietly.

And they were quiet for a time, just enjoying the sunshine and the light breeze that drifted through the pasture. It was a good day to be alive.

Fang watched with a gentle warmth spreading through her. It was good to see Vanille smiling again, especially after everything that happened last night. Her mind still buzzed, was heavily weighed down by all the many numerous things those events of mere hours ago could mean in the long run. What would become of them, of her sister?

"I don't know what I'm going to do." She sighed.

Han lifted one brow, still watching his sheep. "Pardon?"

"I just...she killed someone, Han. I know it was an accident, we all do, but...I don't know if I can do anything to ever make it better."

He was quiet a moment, thinking as he puffed away, the smoke making rings as they billowed from his mouth.

"Perhaps there is no way."

Fang looked at him, confused.

"You can't always make it go away, Fang, you can't always cover it up and keep her from hurting."

She then looked away, her chin sinking towards her chest. "True."

"All you can do, then, is be there for her."

"Patience and love?" Just like Serah said.

"And a great deal of it." he nodded slowly, once. "She may struggle with it for the rest of her life, but as long as you can give her that, she will manage. But never expect it to just go away."

Memories of things that bad, that horrible, would never disappear completely. They would remain, though faintly like an old scar.

"You know," he continued after a long moment. "She is very fortunate to have you."

"I look at it the other way around, personally." Fang didn't know where she would be without Vanille. Her life would be only a fraction of what she knew, maybe even empty.

"You thrive on one another."

"I think so." Fang nodded. It was true, even the Fal'Cie had been aware of that. "But isn't that what family does? Hold each other up?"

"I wouldn't really know." and his brow sank over his eyes. "Though, having spent time with you and your other companions, I would like to think that's true." and Han continued to puff his pipe, watching his dog make circles about the flock of sheep that had gathered around his other adopted sibling.

_(II)_

"Would you care for a libation this evening, sir?" the waitress asked sweetly.

"No thanks, I prefer a woman who's into guys." Helm grumbled.

"She was asking if you wanted a drink." Dash explained. "And would you stop with all the moping? It's aggravating."

"You try being happy after that oh-so-masterful fuck up." he sneered childishly at his sire, his chin on the table as he sulked.

Dash frowned at him before looking back to the barmaid. "Could we have a bottle of the strongest stuff you have?"

With a nod she left them.

They didn't know what the strongest stuff was as this was not their usual bar. The Blue Door had closed without warning some three...four...maybe five days ago, and now they were in some dive of a place in the Drana district. Personally, Dash hated coming to this area of town, thought all of the bars reeked of something awful that made you consistently think of the color brown.

And that entire time Helm had been in a sort of menstrual cycle where he was bitchy, short tempered, and impossible to please. Chocolate had suddenly become a minor addiction as well, seemingly the only thing that even made him remotely happy.

"It's not so bad, Helm, really."

"Are you kidding me? We missed out on the heist of the century. How in the hell am I supposed to feel?"

"So you're sad over missing out on breaking the law? That's stupid."

"Says you. I was looking forward to being so rich my balls hurt."

Dash made a face. Was that even possible? Maybe if you took the strings from an overloaded coin purse and...no, no, don't go there.

"Well, at least there's always more money to be had."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot," Helm sniffed. "You never got to see that broad you were gawking over again, have you?"

"Afraid not. Not since the races...and I was _this_ close to actually speaking with her." he sighed sadly.

"Boo-hoo."

The drinks arrived and Helm dove into it without reservation. He wanted to be as drunk as he could as soon as possible. Now wouldn't even be soon enough.

"Must you be such a wet blanket?"

"No. I must be pissed off. You got me into that fucking corset for nothing." he growled, slamming his shot glass onto the table when it had been emptied.

"You make it sound like I've got something to be happy about."

"Well, you have your health, don't you?"

"Some consolation."

"And your good looks."

Helm's brow bounced in slight agreement.

"There was one more thing..." Dash tapped his chin. "Oh yes, I never did tell you what I won at the races, did I?"

"No. I didn't ask either. I had just assumed you lost as usual."

"Well I didn't this year. I did rather well, actually." the vampire reached into the back pocket of his pants, revealing a bank note that was only a couple of days old. He passed it to his charge.

Helm was hesitant at first, maybe wary that his sire just be playing some practical joke on him. Then he reached for it, dragging it towards him under the press of the tip of one claw. He pinched it between his fingers and lifted it. He then unfolded the note.

Dash waited, sipping his drink, watching for his friend's expression to change.

And it did.

His pale eyebrows climbed high enough that they threatened to take a ride on his back, and his mouth opened as wide as it could, his bottom fangs peeking from behind his lip.

"Wha...wha..."

"And it was all because I bet on that 'broad' you sneered at."

Helm was speechless. He'd never seen so many zeroes in his life.

"So," Dash seemed incredibly smug as he poured his charge another drink. "Balls hurt yet?"

Helm lifted his eyes to his sire, the crimson orbs shimmering with adoration. "I love you."

And Dash could only laugh.

_(III)_

It was nearly morning, the sky gray with the onset of early dawn.

Han, with Gurthang, Fang, Shilo, and even Vanille waited on the flat lands of the steppe, watching over the hills and stretches for what they were looking for.

For the last two days Phantom had been roaming wild across all of Archylte, charging at people when he drew close to the settlement. He would scatter the wild sheep and chocobos, and that, in turn, would make all of the other animals, with the exception of the Gui, behave strangely. If the balance of nature was to be maintained here, the stallion needed to be caught.

Valkyrie had been corralled easily enough, having been wandering about as well, the animal just as tame as any other. But Phantom appeared wild, like a human had never sat astride his back, and refused to give pause for anything or anyone.

For over an hour they waited, listening, watching, drifting from place to place in hopes of seeing the elusive animal.

"Hope we can catch him." Fang said in passing, scanning the steppe from her seat atop a chocobo. "Hate to have to put him down."

"That's what I brought Vanille along for." Han nodded.

Fang's eyes cut to him. "Beg ya pardon?"

"If she is _meh'hana_, then she can tame him."

"Okay," she gave him a funny look that he didn't turn his head to see. "I don't think I like you very much right now."

"She agreed to do it, so if you want to be mad, be mad at her." and yet he grinned. He _might_ have brought it up as the two sat together last night, drinking hot cider next to the fireplace.

"You're kidding."

"Do I kid?" this time he did look at her, one of his dark eyebrows raised.

She knew the answer to that question already, which is why she didn't respond, and only glared at him.

"If she gets hurt you can take it out on me. Fair enough?" he tried to pacify her.

"Fine, but I think you'll regret that." she looked away from him and to Vanille who sat astride another chocobo beside her. What was she thinking getting involved in this? Didn't she realize how dangerous this could be?

At first Fang thought she was here simply for the company. Yesterday Han confessed that her sister had a nightmare the night before, leaving her visibly insecure about being alone. And while that had appeared at first to be pacified by keeping her busy lending Han an extra hand, apparently it wasn't enough. At least that's what Fang was assuming. Was Vanille just in need to feel useful?

The two of them were going to have a little talk after this, Fang noted mentally.

Gurthang tensed, turning suddenly and making a huffing sort of sound that resembled a bark, just not as loud.

"There it is," Shilo pointed with his thick, clawed finger.

And Phantom appeared from behind a rise in the landscape, head down and galloping after some small, impish looking monster. It was a Leyak, scrambling away on stubby legs and squealing in apparent terror.

Han whistled to Gurthang, who took off in a wild sprint as he gave the chocobo beneath him a firm kick. Then Shilo, Fang, and Vanille followed.

From the start the adrenaline shot through the roof, doubly so when Phantom spotted them. He slid to a stop and twisted around to bound off the way he came. Gurthang went barking over the next hill, Shilo the closest behind as he strode on all fours. The three humans astride the chocobos circled the outer side of the hill, trying to head the errant stallion off. Once they could close in and get him in a more confined space, lassoing him would be much easier. But therein was the difficulty. They needed to catch up to him first.

Phantom dragged them to and fro across the steppe, from end to end, and showed no sign of relenting his stubborn flight. It was near impossible to flank him because he was just so fast, and his stamina seemed endless.

Finally they caught a break. Shilo managed to catch Phantom turning, anticipated it, and twisted in order to jump in his intended path. He was just able to snatch two big paws full of the stallions tail, white tresses pressed in his fists. This forced the horse to stop, turning to his impediment with the intent to remove it by any means necessary. Phantom kicked, stomped, thrashed, but Shilo would not let go. The others rode in to assist.

Fang jumped from the back of her chocobo, a stretch of rope in her hands that she had tied a loop in. She spun the loop over her head, waiting for the right moment before throwing it to cinch closed around Phantom's neck. This only served to piss off the animal that much more, going into full throws of bucking. Han came up behind Fang, taking a stretch of the rope in his hand and leaning back, acting as an anchor. This is when Shilo thought it safe to let go, rolling away as a pair of massive hooves came down.

Good gods, what strength this animal had! Every hard jerk threatened to pull both Pulsians off the ground.

"Keep 'em steady!" and then Fang let go, replaced by Shilo.

With only a slight amount of caution, Fang approached, knees bent and ready so she could leap onto the horse's back. For all of ten seconds she was able to hold on, bending at the waist to keep her balance as Phantom jumped and tossed himself in all sorts of frantic ways. She held tight to the rope about his neck and his mane, but it wasn't enough to keep her in place. He moved too suddenly, just a bit too fast, and his risen back end came crashing into the back of her, hurling her to the ground.

One of the hardest falls she had ever taken, a hard shock of impact crackling through her from head to toe.

Vanille watched it happen in slow motion, her chest clenching, her entire body tensing as if something horrible was going to happen. Did she think maybe Fang would break her neck in the fall? Or worse, get trampled to death? She gasped as her sister hit the ground, holding her breath until she saw her roll away from the thrashing giant. When she found herself able to breathe again, her heart racing, she bit her lip. God, she was still so weak, sitting back here watching while everyone else put themselves in danger.

She was still just so afraid. Afraid of everything.

But that was no way to live, came the tiny voice. It simply wasn't living.

Vanille bit her lip a little harder, her heart still pounding as her fear fought her instincts. And her instincts won.

She gave her chocobo a modest kick, ducking so she could pull her feet beneath her. She rounded behind Phantom, stalling only just a second more to find her balance before jumping. She landed on Phantom's back, feeling like she'd just hit pavement and not a body of flesh and bone. Immediately she gripped the rope about the horse's neck, clenching her thighs and keeping her body flush against his spine to keep from being bucked.

Clearly Phantom didn't like that.

"What are you doing?" Fang shouted, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and terror.

Phantom lurched, yanking both Han and Shilo off their feet, dragging the two behind as he managed into another fierce gallop. Fang felt the air snatched out of her lungs, fear clutching as that demon of a beast ran off with her sister. She jumped astride one of the lingering chocobos and started the chase anew.

Already Han could feel his grip on the rope slipping as Phantom pulled him across the ragged ground of Archylte. Rocks and patches of hard ground scraped his bare belly, pinpricks and bee stings.

"Look out!"

Han lifted his head just in time to see Shilo roll to one side, missing a turtle sized stone in the grass. He did the same, the stone clipping his empty shoulder. In a last ditch effort to stay in play, Han let go of the rope and curled his hand around Shilo's tail, garnering a sharp cry from the lion and a dirty look. He would apologize later.

Vanille was hanging on for dear life, eyes screwed shut and knuckles white with her intense grip. Her body thrummed with adrenaline and fear, her throat tight against a terrified scream. It felt so much like tumbling from the airship, back eight years when she had returned to Pulse from Cocoon. Wind was loud and whipping past her ears, howling, and Phantom just kept going. He jumped a small hill, her fear vaulting, and came down heavily, enough of an impact for a small squeak of a scream to weasel out.

_Why did I do this?_ She wondered frantically. Why in the gods' names would she do something so monumentally stupid? She couldn't remember the reason. Her mind was congested with what was happening right now, not what she was thinking mere minutes ago. She could hear the animal's heart chugging in his chest, his incredible lungs churning with breath. And its hooves, chains of thunder when they struck the ground that seemed so far below.

"Vanille!" Han called from behind the horse, dust flying into his mouth and grit and pebbles hitting him in the face. "Vanille, you have to make him stop!"

"I can't!" she screamed, still having yet to work up the courage enough to even open her eyes.

"You've got to try!"

"He's heading for the settlement!" came Shilo's cautionary snarl.

Vanille swallowed hard. Something needed to be done, and she was the only one in the position to do it. How much luckier can a girl get?

"Um...whoa?" she tried, and nothing happened. "Stop? Stop _please_?"

And Phantom simply continued, unconvinced.

_Jesus Christ._

Finally she forced her eyes open, and her back to straighten. Briefly she looked about, and Shilo was right. A few more strides and they would be passing the first few dwellings. She needed to stop this horse before he ran someone over.

"Please slow down," it was more of a desperate whimper than a command. And that clearly wasn't working. She struggled to breathe, lost, her thoughts a blur.

"_Hurry_!" came the voices of both the Leonin and the human holding his tail.

Vanille shrank. What was she supposed to do?

"_Jha'tah jeh_!" she screamed, pulling hard on the loop of rope around Phantom's neck.

The horse whinnied, putting its hooves down, the ground grinding beneath his sudden stop. Vanille lurched forward, her shoulder crushed against the base of the horse's neck, her knees swept over the ribs to hike close to her elbows, and her backside was perched in the air. Han and Shilo slid to a stop as well.

Phantom stood completely still, profiling like a well trained show horse. And before him stood a stock still Hope, looking up with wide eyes and narrow pupils. He had been _this _close to getting plowed flat by the beast. He just froze at the sight of it, and though he was still standing, the sensation of a doe in the headlights didn't go away. Half of him was convinced he'd just pissed himself.

Han could feel his body aching all over again, most of the pain coming from the reddened and raw skin of his belly and chest. He finally let go of Shilo's tail, pressing his palm to the grass to start himself standing.

Fang finally caught up, practically jumping off of the chocobo, furious. With her hands flailing and gesturing she spout a string of what could only be imagined as obscenities in her native tongue. She zeroed in on Han, as all this was his idea, and unleashed a barrage of gibberish at a dizzying frequency. While Han took it in stride, Shilo and Vanille watched with interest. Shilo's jaw sank just slightly, shocked to hear such things, more so to see a woman treat a man like this. His females had never done anything even resembling the tongue lashing his friend was getting. Vanille had dismounted wanting to watch, and her eyes steadily widened as a redness blossomed across her cheeks. Her hand eased over her gaping mouth as the words grew steadily nastier.

On she went for more than a minute, up in his face and looking him dead in the eyes without blinking. He barely flinched. In fact it looked like he was fighting a smile.

And then Fang slipped back into English with - "And if you _ever_ even _think_ of pulling shit like this again, I will _rip_ that beard right out of your chin!" and she jabbed a threatening finger to the aforementioned part of his face.

He was quiet a moment. Then, "Feel better?"

"Yes...I just needed to do that." she panted. "And you dropped this."

Teh'Han looked to what she held in her hand, suddenly feeling his stomach twist. He checked himself over, needing to be absolutely sure she was holding what it looked like she was holding. Somehow, during the trip across the steppe, his wrap had been pulled off. Now he stood there in his loincloth, his backside on display for gods and everybody.

"Th-thank you." and he snatched it back, quickly tying it back into place while everyone else had a good laugh. "I guess it's the least I should get for all this. Yes, do keep laughing."

"You should think about laying out in the sun a bit, _ae mot_," Shilo chuckled, his arms crossed. "You're terribly pale there, almost sickly looking,"

Fang stood still long enough to see only the first exchange of Shilo and Han going back and forth, and then she went around them to stand before Vanille, who still had her hand covering her mouth.

"What were you thinking?" she started out straight away. "Don't you know you could've gotten yourself killed?"

Vanille felt herself shrink a little, sensing Fang's severity plainly through her tone of voice and tightened expression. At first she could only look away with the eruption of guilt, but she found herself swallowing it suddenly.

"So could you. I was just doing what you would've done if you were me."

"But you're not me," she shrugged, trying to force the aggravation down as not to be cross with her. "You need to be more careful."

"And just stand by and watch while you and the others put yourselves at risk? Really?" and her tone had become accusatory, calling Fang out on her seemingly overprotective tendencies.

"You shouldn't have been there in the first place." Fang countered.

"But I was." she replied. "And I got the job done, didn't I?"

Fang was at a loss. She got her there.

"Don't be so hard on her, Fang." Han had appeared behind the taller Oerban. "I talked her into it."

Fang looked at him, her eyes like daggers, but only for a moment. She thought about it again, back to what they had discussed only a day or so ago. She couldn't protect Vanille from everything. That wouldn't be right.

She shrugged, relenting. Her expression gentled and she pat her sister's head. "You did good. Just tell me first next time, yeah?"

"_Ae mot_,"

The three humans turned to the Leonin. Though he was still smiling that subtle kitty smile, he looked a little sad. Maybe it was his eyes.

"I'm afraid I must be off."

Han felt his chest tighten. Shilo had mentioned this earlier. Part of him wished he had forgotten.

"I have been gone long enough. And my pride needs me."

"Yes, I know. I wish you could stay a while longer." Han was convinced there was still more the Leonin could do, something no one else would be able to. "I will miss you."

"And I you, but now I know where you are. I'm not so far away." He gathered his human brother into his massive arms, squeezing with a temerity that spoke volumes. Shilo would miss him just as much. "But I'm confident in where you are now."

Han stepped back, the lion's paws still on his shoulders. "What do you mean?"

"Look at what you have compared to when I first found you. You are not alone...you even have a new family. These are things I could never really give you, though I did try."

"Shilo," Han felt his heart pinch. "I was happy with you and the pride, never-"

"I know, but you never felt as though you really belonged, did you?"

He didn't answer, only shifted his eyes away.

"You belong here, Han. _This_ is your home, not the Switchback, though I hope you will remember it fondly."

"Always."

"Then I will only miss you a little." Shilo nodded. "Just as you should miss me but a bit. Agreed?"

Han nodded, smiling. "I can't even begin to thank you."

"Live, Han." Shilo's paws curled tighter. "_Live_, don't just exist. You have everything you need to live the life I know you deserve. Don't waste it."

Han looked back at his dear friend, puzzled, his brow furrowed.

"Just think about it a while. You'll understand." the lion laughed a little, giving Han one last embrace before stepping away.

"I'll miss you too, kitty." Fang said with a relenting sigh.

"Yes, and it was a pleasure to fight beside you." Shilo gave her a toothy grin, saying his farewell in the traditional Pulsian manner. "The steppe is surely safer with you around."

"Flatterer." she laughed.

And then the Leonin turned to Vanille. "No fear, little sister. All right?"

"I-I'll try." she replied, his sheer size stealing some of her courage. "Thank you."

"Of course. You take care of him, won't you?" he half turned, giving Han a small smirk. "Take care of each other?"

"I'll do my best." though she wasn't sure if that was going to be any good.

Shilo bid her good bye the same way he had Fang, then started on towards the pass to Mah'habara, the quickest way for him to return to the Switchback. On his way, he paused only a moment to give Hope a parting pat on the shoulder, as the young man was still stuck in place, staring back into Phantom's piercing eyes.

"I'm gonna miss the fuzz ball." Fang shrugged, her hands on her hips.

Han wiped his eyes, hating to have to see him go.

"C-can we put him in a stable or something?" Hope managed at last. "He's creeping me out."

"I'll take him." Fang volunteered, hoping the animal wouldn't try to bolt as she grabbed the stretch of rope still tied to him. Surprisingly Phantom went right along.

Han blinked the tears away, his vision clearing just in time to see Vanille approach him and throw her arms around his neck. His brow climbed.

"What is it?" he asked, his arm out to the side and hesitant, as if he didn't even know what a hug was or what to do with it.

"I never told you thank you." she said quietly. "If it wasn't for you, Fang never would have found me."

"Oh." he understood, feeling himself relax as he eased his arm across her back. "Think nothing of it. Besides, I only led her there. The blackbird was what warned me."

Vanille eased back, looking at him with shock. So the blackbird had actually made it all the way here? It really worked...

"Still," she looked away a moment. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." and he bowed his head, smiling.

"What's that?"

It was Hope asking the question, Han and Vanille looking to see Hope pointing to something out in the steppe. Han twisted completely around, eyes scanning the horizon until he discovered what had demanded the boy's curiosity.

Three chocobos, but none that dwelt in this area. They were red and orange, and they had riders astride their backs. He couldn't rightly tell from this distance, but they appeared armed with long lances, longer than even Fang's. Han's brow tightened. Something about them seemed oddly familiar.

He took a set of steps closer, as if it helped him see a little clearer. Not much, but enough to make out that the riders were also wearing saris. Bright red and gold and twisted about their shoulders and chests in a very particular way. Han felt his jaw loosen, his heart thrumming suddenly so hard.

Whoever they were, they could only be from one place considering the color of their mounts and their clothing.

They were Kushtan.

Author's Note: These last couple chapters are a bit crappy, sorry. I've been binge-writing for the last couple of days so...yeah. Anyway, got lots of drama and dialogue coming, so hopefully no one will get too bored. Maybe some romantic coupling on the way too. Dunno who yet, though. Next chapter? Well, you'll just have to read and find out.


	38. Chapter XXXVII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

Han found the nearest chocobo he could reach and climbed onto its back, and without a word gave it a stout kick to force it into a swift amble. Gurthang followed behind him.

"What's wrong with him?" Hope thought aloud as he watched him go, the bird's backside swinging back and forth as it ran.

"I don't know," Vanille put her knuckle near her mouth, just beneath her lips. "Maybe he knows those people."

"But he's not from around here, right?"

Vanille had no answer, no thought. When Fang returned from the stables she found herself asking the same questions and having just as many thoughts.

"Let's go and say hello then." Fang nodded.

Han pushed the chocobo as fast as it would go, his heart in his throat. How could this be, his people here, so far south? What had happened to drive them out this way? Were they even Kushtan? His mind was alight with so many questions, so much dread, he could barely process it all. The distance between him and the other riders only seemed to grow as he went. But when he finally got there, enduring the curious gazes of what were clearly his countrymen, he had nothing to say, no words, only a look of awe.

Bright red chocobos, hints of orange and yellow in the feathers painted with streaks of blue and green. Their riders were women, strong, tall women with their hair in nests of plaids and beads, feather adornments dangling from their ears and around their necks. They looked at him with a mild confusion, some sort of wariness towards something unfamiliar. Maybe they were wondering what this wild looking vagrant was doing here, in their presence.

Han felt himself slowly overwhelmed by his swelling emotions, unsure of what they were. Maybe it was just shock.

"_H-han'tasa_, _Fal'yu tasa _Valefor," it was the only thing he could manage with any confidence.

All three of them reacted, their brows climbing and eyes widening in unison. They exchanged glances, disbelieving. It seemed like that was a greeting reserved for a choice few, and known by only some.

"_Y'oaes tasa_?" asked the one in the center.

"Roc Teh'Han, _so'sa tasa _Roc Lana." was his response, verifying his lineage by way of his mother's name. He could see a fresh wave of surprise rebound through them. The one in the center slid from her mount, walking towards him. Han did the same, meeting her half way.

She looked him up and down, unblinking in her scrutiny. She stepped around him, pausing when she saw the large tattoo on his back. With mouth ajar she touched it like one would a priceless object, needing to know it was indeed real.

"Who is your wife?" she asked suddenly.

"Naya, chief of the west." he responded steadily. "But she is dead."

"Everything all right, big brother?"

All of them lifted their heads, some turning, to see the two Oerban's atop another chocobo, riding at a steady trot and slowing to a stop. Hope was there as well, having fallen behind a ways. Fang slid to the ground, hands on her hips and Gurthang at her feet as she stood beside Han, her gaze wary.

"What's going on?"

"Fang, these are my people." he explained, looking as happy as she had ever seen him. Happy, bit still seemingly overwhelmed.

"That so? Why so far south?"

"I was about to ask the same question." He turned back to the Kushtan before him.

"This is all new territory for us," the much taller woman said, "Chief Hana sent us out to have a look around."

Han felt his heart leap at the sound of his sister-in-law. "Why so far from our home?"

"Our Spring hunting grounds have suffered a severe drought these last few years, since the Fall, and now it's nearly empty. There's no game, no water, nothing. We were forced to move on."

His features fell, his heart breaking at the idea of his homelands being abandoned. He remembered how beautiful that country once was.

"How did you come here? Surely not through Mah'habara,"

"No," the woman shook her head. "But come along, Hana would be better to answer your questions." and she turned away to return to her mount.

"May my friends come along?"

"Who are they?" in particular she eyed Hope, finding him rather tiny and almost detestable. At least that's how it appeared by the look on her face.

"They have been like family to me. I will take responsibility for them."

"Very well, let's be on."

Personally, Fang thought her tone was a bit - oh what to call it - rude. But she didn't argue, maybe Han's people were just that way with strangers. She could understand, she didn't like strangers either.

"Where are they going?" Vanille asked as Fang pulled herself astride.

"Dunno, but we're going too."

"Who are they?" Hope inquired.

"They're his clan. At least that's what he said." she clenched her thighs to get the bird moving again.

"What, don't you believe him?"

"It's not that, I just," she thought about it a moment. "I'm not sure."

But she was, she was just uncertain as to how to explain it. She didn't see a lot of love for Han from any of those women, though it appeared that they knew who he was and were very shocked to see him. Then again, she didn't understand these people and it was clear that Kushtans and Oerbans were very different. Maybe this little outing would help her understand.

They were led down into the southern funnelway, through the pass and into Vallis Media. Onward still until they reached the Paddrean Archeopolis. This was where the eastern band of the Kushta had set up a temporary camp with intent to move again on the morrow. There were no less than two hundred human beings, and that was accounted for alongside nearly a thousand head of livestock such as sheep and chocobos. How they had squashed such numbers into such an enclosed area was something to marvel at.

Han felt himself almost going back in time, surrounded by so many familiar things. Part of him simply couldn't believe this was happening.

What he didn't see was how many of them stopped what they were doing to look at him. It was like they knew exactly who he was, where he'd been, and had assumed him dead to now see him as a spirit. Wide eyed and slack jawed, some even rubbing their eyes to make sure what they were seeing was real.

The chief's tent was one of the few erected at the time, so it wasn't exactly a hard thing to miss. Han excitedly slid off the chocobo's back, the others following suit. One of the scouts had stepped inside, perhaps to make those inside aware of the new visitors. When she emerged again, several other women doing so as well, she stood before Han, but looked at all four of them.

"She wishes to see you in private. You're friends will have to wait."

Han cringed, turning his head with the certainty of the displeased looks he was going to get.

"Go on, we'll be fine." Fang nodded, somehow having expected as much.

Han swallowed, nodding in response. He had to emotionally steel himself before walking inside, a deep breath seeming enough.

The hole in the top of the tent allowed enough light inside to let him see, and there was Hana, his eyes immediately falling on her as she stood just inside. She was the spitting image of his wife, her twin sister, the eldest by minutes. Tall, muscled, bright golden hair and staggering blue eyes with a deep red sari twisted about her torso. Beneath she was clothed in leather and feathers, bone and metal jewelry dangling from her ears and neck. There was a bird like tattoo on her forehead, sweeping designs that distinguished her as the chieftain. She looked at Han with a degree of awe that humbled him. Unlike any behavior she had ever displayed in regards to him before, she threw her arms around him and held him close enough to steal his breath.

"Praise the gods, it _is_ you!" she whispered, a breathy sob of relief. She leaned away, looking him up and down. She had known him right away from his eyes, but now with a closer look he seemed that much more familiar. "We had all but given up hope!"

Han, at first, couldn't speak. She had never been so pleased to see him, much less speak to him.

"I-um...w-what do you...how did you know?"

"Please, come sit and I will explain."

Still somewhat stunned, Han watched Hana walk away from him, sitting on an arrangement of rugs on the floor, her hand gesturing for him to sit beside her. This was simply unheard of; men don't sit beside the chief, and that went double for him. Still, she had asked, and it would be rude to tell her no.

"Are you hungry, thirsty?" she seemed all too eager to cater to him. This was so unusual.

"Um, no, thank you." he was surprised he could even say this. Until now, Naya had been the only woman to address him so informally. Her and Fang anyway. "How...so how did you know...about me?"

"We saw the smoke." was Hana's reply, expecting him to connect the dots. "When, I can only assume was the morning after it happened. I took a hunting party and tracked it to the source, something not feeling right at all. Then...well, we saw what happened."

Han felt his stomach sink. He could only imagine what they had found, what might have been left after the vampire's departed. Nothing but ashes and embers, he considered.

"There were bodies everywhere," Hana shook her head slowly, having looked away from him with a darkened expression. "But there were even more we couldn't find. You, as well as most of the young men were gone, some of the children...everyone else was dead."

Han felt his face scrunch with a painful wince. "Did," he had to catch his breath as the pain sank in. "Did she get a proper burial?"

"Of course." Hana nodded. A pyre had been built that very evening and set alight in the manner per the old traditions. "Everything was taken care of once...once the shock had passed. We'd never seen anything like that, Teh'Han."

"I know." he nodded, his head feeling heavy. "It had never happened before, if I'm right."

"We never imagined...our coexistence with them had always been so docile."

"It's strange, yes."

Hana managed to look at him again. "What happened to you?"

Han scowled, his hand reaching to rub the scarred patch of his empty shoulder. "Nightmarish things...I don't really want to talk about it. But, tell me, how is it you brought the band out so far? I didn't think there were any passages to this area from Kushta."

"There weren't, but then the pillar fell, Cocoon coming down with it. Most of us just remember a great shaking, like the spine of Pulse herself split, and it had in some places. Some mountains to the west cracked, right down the middle," she made a chopping gesture with one hand. "And as the drought dragged on, we thought to explore it thinking it better than just wandering around and waiting to die of thirst. But, speaking of that, how is it _you_ came to be here?"

Teh'Han shrugged lightly, his eyes on the floor as he thought back. "I've been many places over the last sixteen years, here and there, wandering, I just happened upon the steppe and settled here. I have a farm."

"Do you?" there was only a partial authenticity to her interest. "Even sheep?"

"Yes, there are some wild flocks here." he nodded.

"But...you don't seem very pleased."

"I am," he corrected quickly. "I...it's a lot to remember, being here, seeing you."

Hana nodded. "I can only imagine what it's been like for you on your own."

It wasn't all that bad really. No one side stepped him or considered him a burden, didn't ignore him or think him a curse. No expectations...it was actually kind of nice. Besides, it wasn't like it had been his first time alone.

"I make due." was all he said, in spite of what he was really thinking.

She shrugged, looking somewhat guilty. Strange thing for him to see to be sure. And it was thankfully brief, as she suddenly smiled.

"I have some things you might want," she said, standing up. She went to some corner of the tent, into a large leather pack that looked stuffed with things, returning with a full arm load of items that she set down in between them. She watched his face, getting the exact reaction she had expected. "I recovered what I could from what was left. I've been keeping them close ever since."

Han felt his mouth fall open, his scowl easing into something more akin to touched skepticism. There on the floor before him, folded neatly and well maintained, was his sari, the crimson silk garment Naya had given him as a wedding present. And the earrings he had once worn, three steel bands and a dangling feather dipped in red and blue dye. It marked his position as the chief's husband, and while that offered him absolutely no influence within the tribe, it garnered him a modicum of respect.

"My gods...how,"

"Naya's tent hadn't been burned down like all of the others. It was like it never even happened. I also have your wedding clothes."

He gawked at her, unable to even consider it true at first.

"What of Naya's belongings?" if there was even a single shred of her left, Han wished to have it. Or, at the very least, have some assurance that it was well kept.

"I found a few things, yes." Hana nodded.

"And?"

"I kept them for a while, but,"

"But what?" he was desperate to know.

Hana grinned again after a long pause. "We can talk about it later, right now I think you need a bath. You smell."

He wished his jaw would hit the floor, like he felt it could at her answer. "That's unfair, Hana. Anything of hers is rightfully mine," he said through a tightened jaw, somewhat angry.

"And I'm not trying to deny you that, I just think what's really unfair is your stink. And you look like a lion with your hair the way it is; honestly, don't you take care of yourself?" she stood up, her hands on her hips as she addressed him. She made it sound like it should be as simple as rolling over to trim his own hair and beard with just one hand. Maybe she thought Gurthang should have been able to do it for him?

Han only scowled, watching as she went to poke her head out of the tent flap and calling to those who were most likely her personal attendants. He knew there was a reason why they never managed to get along, aside from the fact that he was at the very bottom of the social totem pole and yet still had the nerve to marry her sister.

Outside, the three left there sat in the grass together and listened to the clearly uncomfortable noises coming from within the tent. Fang had caught a glimpse of a host of women going in there, armed with buckets of water and brushes and shears. Gods only knew what else. She imagined the worst...and it made her laugh.

"I hope he's okay." Vanille found herself giggling as well.

"What are they doing to him?" Hope looked back at the tent, wincing at the yelp that erupted from inside. He righted his posture, only to turn back to see Gurthang looking right at him, panting. "What?" he asked the dog, maybe expecting a plain answer. But was given none. Gurthang simply sat there and stared, his tongue wagging.

"Maybe he's into kinky sex. I mean, they had scissors after all..."

"Fang, you're gross." Vanille cringed at her.

"What? I was just throwing it out there, you never know with those strong silent types."

"Ew."

Fang only laughed. "I'm sure he's fine. After that nice little romp through the dirt this morning they probably thought he needed a scrub down." He _had_ looked rather rough after that, streaked from crotch to collar bone with soil and tracks of green.

And though he hadn't had a lay in more than sixteen years, sex was the last thing on Teh'Han's mind, even as the women stripped him down and dowsed him with water. Instead he was thinking what on Gran Pulse were they doing? Women didn't wash men, quite the opposite, and someone as low as him would be charged with doing so on his own. Why didn't they just set down their tools and leave him be? No, they treated him almost like royalty, like a chief, and washed him from head to toe. They trimmed back his beard and his hair to a more traditional style, leaving the tresses perfectly level with his cheekbones and shaving most of what was in the back just shy of bald save for a small handful which was tied into a ponytail.

Then they dried him off and even dressed him, tying his sari and putting sandals on his feet for him. At least they allowed him to put his earrings back in on his own. How did Hana stand this kind of treatment every day? He was almost dizzy when they finally left him alone, just stumbling outside in search of Hana who had seemed to disappear.

"Hey, lookit' you," Fang's brow raised. "Who'd have thought there was a man underneath all that."

Han felt himself blushing, something he was _not_ used to. Gurthang jumped up from where he lay and barked, seemingly delighted with his master's new appearance. He certainly smelled better. Vanille and even Hope agreed that the new look suited him.

"Th-thank you," he scratched at the back of his head, not used to the lack of hair that remained there. "Did you see where Hana went off to?"

"Somewhere that way," Fang pointed lazily "Are all these folks your family or something?"

"Hana is my late wife's sister. She has some of Naya's things that I would like to keep, and then I wish to go home." he sounded agitated, which was understandable considering the manhandling he had just endured.

"But isn't _this_ your home?" Vanille's question was honest, innocent.

"Certainly not." was his reply as he started in the direction Fang had gestured. Gurthang followed, leaving the other three of them where they were, puzzled.

"Was it something I said?" Vanille sounded concerned, like she had done something terribly wrong.

"No. I'm willing to guess big brother hasn't lost much love for these people." though she wasn't sure of the reason.

Han's steps were heavy as he went in search of his in-law, looking between and over dozens of people before spotting that telling head of golden hair. With determination darkening his features he made his way to stand beside her, his jaw tight.

"There you are!" she smiled at him. "That looks so much better, don't you think?"

"And I'm grateful for the attention, Hana, but I'm afraid I must go."

"So soon?"

"I have animals that need tending to, chores to do."

"Oh, very well, but spare me just a moment longer."

He grumbled low in his chest. If this what it would take, then so be it. Hana turned away from him and his curiosity forced him to take some interest in whatever it was she was looking at. With a moment to remember he realized she was overseeing the older children sparring. Traditionally when a child, particularly girls, hits puberty, they begin learning how to fight. Not that young men weren't involved, it was they were simply given less attention. Men weren't expected to fight anyhow. I guess you could say that schooling for the boys was more geared towards skills needed to hunt than actual combat.

Han watched as several mixed pairs of teenage boys and girls squared off. Much like how it went in his own youth. And now, like then, the young men were pitifully outmatched.

"Not much has changed." he rumbled somewhat bitterly.

"You'd be surprised." Hana smirked.

"I already have been once today. Care to explain any of that?"

"Like what?"

"Women, Hana, _women_ washed and dressed me. What the hell happened?"

"Well, it's a lot of different things, one of which being my successor."

"Oh? You have a daughter?" last he recalled, Hana and her husband had no children, but that was on the far side of two decades ago.

"Look there,"

He spotted the girl, in the midst of sixteen, with long chestnut hair, a more red than pink sari twisted about her muscled and lithe frame. She had a birthmark, a bright red stripe on her left leg across the shin.

Han felt his brow tighten. Chestnut hair? How could that be? Hana was blond, and her husband had some of the wildest red hair Han had ever seen in his life. Even mixed, those two colors would not come out as they had on that girl's head. However, he recognized the sari, it had been Naya's, as the color worn by the chief was distinct from all the others.

"You gave Naya's things to her? I suppose that's appropriate." though he felt disgusted by the action. "She will be chief someday, after all."

"Well, there is that."

Han looked at Hana, his brow heavy over his eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he had to ask, sensing something off in her tone of voice.

"You think you could handle it?"

His expression went from accusatory to baffled. "I...I don't understand."

Hana sighed, her smirk dying. "She's my successor, but she's not my daughter. Karma and I have never managed to have any children of our own. I thought it was the gods punishing me for how I treated you."

"Then who's child is she?" Han asked without really thinking it through, and completely ignored the other part of her statement. Honestly, he couldn't care less if she was barren or not. It was none of his business.

Hana's gaze had become distant, her blue eyes dimmed with recollection. "We'd searched for survivors, and only found a small handful of our people still alive. That's how we knew it was the vampires' doing. Still, some had lived, one of them being a newborn baby. Karma found her in Meh'Tonna's arms, pinned beneath her own dead body."

Han was having trouble processing what she was saying, had difficulty picturing it in his head.

"Later I found Naya...her womb was empty."

He knew that much, had guessed it as he saw her die and the vampire bastard rip into her body. He had heard the child cry.

"And there were no traces of the child on the vampire that lay dead beside her."

Han felt his body tighten as he looked back at the girl and let the information sink in.

"Need I say any more?" Hana asked, wondering if he could manage to put it together on his own.

Color left his face, his mouth parted wordlessly. Slowly he turned his head to lay his heavy, pleading gaze on her.

"But...but I heard it," he stammered. "I heard the baby cry...and then nothing."

"Because Meh'Tonna had killed the vampire and tried to save her chieftain's daughter. She paid for the attempt with her life."

Daughter?

"You mean to tell me," he croaked, his voice heavy with a scrambled conglomeration of emotions he couldn't define. "Are you saying...she's mine?"

"I am." was her only reply.

He couldn't believe it. No, it just wasn't true, it couldn't be. He couldn't have such a stroke of good fortune, it just wasn't possible. Meh'Tonna had never liked him, never spoken a word to him in all his life, but she had sacrificed her life knowing the daughter of her leader was his.

_And the child had lived_.

"Does...does she know...where she came from?"

"She does. I've told her about you and Naya, she knows I'm not her birth mother."

He felt his breath seeping out of him, snatched away in a slow and crawling instant. He almost couldn't stand on his own feet. How could this be? Why...why had he been driven to believe that everything he loved was gone? Why would the gods torture him so?

"You should speak to her, she has always wanted to meet you."

"She didn't think I was dead?"

"She knew it was possible, but she never lost hope."

Han swallowed hard, his throat tight and mouth parched. "I...not yet, I need time...I need to let this settle first."

"I understand, and you said you had to return home, yes? How about you come back tonight, we'll talk over a meal."

Han nodded, swallowing again. He was just...stunned, feeling like he was having a sort of out of body experience.

"Yes, tonight. That should do." he sounded so distant. "Thank you, Hana...for your generosity."

"It was the least I could do. You loved Naya so much...and I never wanted to admit it, but she loved you too. It's what she would've wanted."

He said nothing more, and returned to meet up with the others and leave. He needed to get away from here, away from the oppressive air, the memories that beat him down.

They all saw the look on his face, Gurthang even whined as if to ask why, but no one dared to question him. They could feel it coming off of him, a heavy contemplation bordering on despair. They simply mounted the chocobos once more and left the pass, returning to the steppe. Hunched with his head lowered, Han went home, not noticing or caring if anyone was following him. He just wanted to be alone anyhow, he needed some peace and quiet, some solitude to help him think.

He didn't even put the chocobo in the stable when he reached the pasture, sliding to the ground and just letting it wander where it would. Han pushed the front door open and didn't bother to close it. Gurthang stood there on the threshold, his face lengthened to show his dismay at his master's mood. He laid down there, whimpering with his head between his paws.

With a rush of air and upholstery Han fell onto the sofa, his arm out beside him, idle like the rest of his body other than his mind. He thought to find his pipe, thinking maybe a smoke would soothe him. But he decided against it. There would be no hiding from this, no numbing the pain.

Fang had followed him, convinced Vanille and Hope to go on and do whatever it was they could think to do. She didn't want to leave the old fellow by himself, felt it wouldn't be right. Now she was standing in his doorway, her feet on either side of the dog, quiet as she looked inside. She waited several minutes, wondering if he would acknowledge her or not.

"Mind if I come in for a spell?" she asked, curious.

He made no gesture to allow or deny her, so she took her own permission and stepped in. With hushed steps she advanced towards him, nearer to the sofa before she stopped. She put her hand against the back of it, leaning to catch a glimpse of him.

His head was in his hand, and his body jerked with what could be nothing other than well restrained sobs.

He knew she was there, and a part of him wished she would leave. Her presence was damn near stifling.

"Wanna talk it out?" and she waited to receive no answer. "Then how about I just have a seat and keep ya company? Sound okay?"

Were all Oerbans this pushy? Or maybe it was just a woman thing.

For the greater portion of the next half hour she sat beside him, not saying a word, and just waiting. He was going to spill it eventually, somehow she knew if she just waited long enough, he would tell her everything.

And she was right.

Han choked back the tears, forced them down in the usual way, and then lounged back against the sofa. He tipped back his head, taking deep breaths to soothe the hammering of his heart.

"Did I ever tell you how I was going to be a father?" he croaked, his voice unsteady.

"No, can't say you did."

"Well now I have. I was convinced the child was lost along with my wife." he groaned, feeling the tears threatening again.

"But that's no longer true?"

"No. Hana has been raising her for the last sixteen years. She's nearly a grown woman now, and I've only just seen her face...I don't even know her name."

"I can imagine how that might be a little...hard to swallow." she put it gently, thinking it the best course to take. "But you're here now, right?"

"But what am I supposed to do? She's my own flesh and blood and I don't know the first thing about her! I," he had to breathe, gather his thoughts, his voice threatening to break. "I've missed everything; her first steps, her first words, I've missed it all! What the hell kind of a father can I ever hope to be?"

Fang felt her heart twist. Poor guy. "You love her though, don't you?" she asked after a moment.

"She's my only child. I would do anything for her." That's what parents did, unconditional love for the ones conceived in it.

"Then that's a start, and a damn good one. Parenthood begins and ends with love, with a lot of patience and understanding in the middle."

Han thought about it, mulled it over in his mind, and then he laughed a little. "You sound as if you've been a parent before."

"Nah," she shook her head. "My dad was just a cut above the rest. Everything I know I learned from watching him."

Han nodded. Everything he had ever heard about Fang's father was good, once again making him wish he had a father like that growing up. A father at all would've been a step in the right direction.

"So what are you going to do?" Fang wondered. "Are you going to stay with them now?"

Han's brow tightened. "I'm still thinking about, though they haven't exactly extended the offer. But...Hana wants me to return tonight that she might...introduce us."

"I see. Do you want me to come with you, just for the support I mean?"

"No, but thank you. This...I need to do this on my own."

Fang nodded once again, understand completely. "Just thought I'd offer. I'm sure I can find something constructive to do tonight."

"Why don't you go look in on the goat?" he smirked. "How is he, anyhow?"

"Better, I think, though he can't seem to remember what gave him the black eye. But the doctor said that was normal." and she chuckled. The satyr was still such a wreck.

Han looked away, having no further questions, but hundreds if not thousands of further thoughts.

"Still no changes," Fang said suddenly, as if she could read his mind. "Sorry."

He knew what she was referring to. What else could it be? "I had gathered."

"Too soon, they said. Give it another week and we might see something," though her tone was one of skeptic sarcasm, like she didn't believe it and had no hope. "Can I ask ya a personal question, big brother?"

"If you must."

"Do you...you care about her, don't ya? Be honest."

Teh'Han could feel a fresh clenching in his heart, twice as tight as it was already. Of all the questions.

"I can't answer that."

"Why not?"

"Because...if the gods hear," he paused, contemplating the consequences, and then he wouldn't dare utter them once he was certain.

"You still believe in that curse crap?" she scowled at the face he made. "Yeah, I know about it, I know what your name means. And while I don't blame you, I think it's time you let it go."

"You don't understand."

"Sure I do. Ya get hurt enough times you really start to think it's more than just shit luck. It keeps happening and you believe you're stuck with it. I get it. But think about it,"

He looked to his tribal sister, only partially curious as to what she was going to say.

"You've been nothing but a blessing to us, Han, to our family."

Shock straightened his features, his brow near his hairline.

"You better believe it. All the shit we've gotten handed to us recently was all our own fault, not yours, and every mess we've made you've helped us get out of. We don't even use your given name for gods' sakes."

Your name was your nature, and his new family had, perhaps unconsciously, given him a new one. Even Lightning had used it in her desperate attempt to catch him.

Han. Blessing.

It was almost too simple. Could everything really have changed so easily, without even a hint of his notice?

But it couldn't be, not a chance. The gods would still punish him if he ever spoke of feelings for anyone aloud. Anything beyond that of close friendship would be met with disaster. And he wasn't going to stand for someone else to pay because of his selfishness, his desire to feel loved and wanted.

Han shook his head. "I still can't. It wouldn't matter now anyway."

Fang didn't protest. He made a fairly valid point. "You will eventually, won't you?"

"We'll just have to see." he sighed heavily.

"Fair enough." she conceded, folding her hands behind her head and lounging back into the sofa cushions.

Author's Note: This chapter was shorter than usual, sorry about that. Good lord, I can't believe how long this is turning out to be. Longer than I ever intended or guessed. Anyway, lots of crappy dialogue, I know, and there's only more to come. I don't think I could call it filler, because it's more so character development, and therefore plot prudent. I dunno. Although I'll admit that there isn't much more to this tale, so I'm working on closure for those who can get it. Just got to hang on and see where this wild ride takes us. See you next chapter.


	39. Chapter XXXVIII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

In time, morning to turned to mid-day, and mid-day faded into twilight. This is when Han thought it best to leave the pasture, managing as he went to muster up the courage to return to the Paddrean Archeopolis and face what he knew was waiting for him.

What would he say, what _was there_ to say to the daughter you've never known? Was she going to hate him? If so, would she be able to forgive him? He couldn't even begin to imagine what was going to happen when they were at last introduced. Fang had wished him good luck, and he hoped that wish would come true. Maybe, just maybe, if he dared to wish for it too...

_Just take it as it comes_, he shrugged heavily. It was really the best and only thing to do.

Fang returned to the settlement just before the sun went down, wanting to be back before it was too dark to see. And in spite of what you might have thought, she didn't immediately go in search of Vanille upon her arrival. Fang had confidence that Hope was well aware how deep in a pile of shit he would be if something happened to her. Still, she didn't feel like being alone, so she went in search for some company. Anyone would do, even a doped up goat man.

When Hope and Vanille had come back to the settlement earlier today, Fang leaving them to speak with Han, their only thought was to return to Hope's place and kill the time. Doing what? Well, for ones their age it could've been anything. However Vanille seemed adamant in her demands that they clean the dwelling from top to bottom. She said it was an absolute wreck screaming for help, and by help she meant a broom.

It took the entirety of the afternoon to even make a dent in it, the biggest hurdle being the conglomeration of spare parts and scraps that needed to be sorted through and put away. They pilfered an empty box from the storage closet at the Resource Center, eventually tossing everything that was still useable in it, and tossing the rest out. From there it was easy. The bed was made, the dishes washed, the laundry gathered, and it was then the place actually began to resemble a living space and not a landfill.

Hope stood back, his brows lifted. "Wow...I didn't think the place was this big."

"See what happens when you clean up after yourself?" she laughed, nudging his arm with her elbow.

"I've been busy, okay," he excused himself with a small grin, "haven't exactly had the time to do it since we got back."

She nodded with a small sigh, lenient. "Okay, so what now?"

Hope bounced his shoulders. "I don't know, what do you want to do?"

She thought about it, somewhat surprised he asked. Her eyes lifted, one finger tapping her jawline. "I wonder if Fang's back yet,"

"Should we go look for her?"

"Oh no, I was just thinking aloud." she shook her head. She then stretched her arms over her head, a light yawn emerging as she started across the room. She sat on the edge of the cot. "We could try something new and just hang out..."

Just hang out? Huh, what a novel idea. Hope laughed, scratching the back of his head. She was right, that was something they had never really had time for until now. Still smiling he went to sit beside her, the metal frame of the cot creaking as his weight settled onto it.

For the longest moment they were quiet, and only half glancing towards one another, maybe waiting for someone to say something.

"Maybe we could talk," Hope rubbed his neck.

"About what?"

"Good question," his brow lowered, feeling vulnerable. "Well...I've got some books, we could read one together."

Her face lit up. "What kind?"

"What kind do you want?" that awkward heaviness lifted from his shoulders now that they had found some common ground. He reached beneath his bed and pulled a sizable box into the light. At least a dozen or more paperback books were stacked on top of one another, some of them looking fairly new, others seeming worn enough to be missing the cover. "I've got a lot of different ones."

Her eyes widened. "Have you read all of them?"

"At least once."

Vanille reached down and picked one of them up, glancing at the gently creased cover. It was titled "_The Devil's Cat_" and was illustrated with a black cat sitting on a tombstone. She marveled at his seemingly small collection, not having so many books back in Oerba. At least, not that she could remember.

"Which one's your favorite?" she asked, setting the book down.

Hope reached down, pushing a few of the others out of the way until he was near the bottom of the box. It was an old, old book, the cover nigh on separated at the seam.

She lifted one eyebrow at it. "The Gunslinger? What's it about?"

"It's the first of a series, about a guy named Roland trying to reach the Dark Tower. It's kind of a science-fiction-fantasy sort of thing."

"Sounds...interesting,"

"We could read it together if you want."

"You don't mind?"

"No, like I said, it's my favorite." he smiled, scooting back on the bed until his back was against the wall. He stretched out his legs and pat the space beside him with his hand. Vanille crawled back to sit beside him, relaxed even as his arm eased across her shoulders. She curled against him, her head on his shoulder and one hand on his chest. With a contented sigh she watched him flip open the aged cover, the first line of chapter one immediately grabbing her attention.

_The man in black fled across the desert, and the Gunslinger followed._

Hope didn't read aloud, but instead waited as she quietly read and then turned the page for him. He already knew this book cover to cover, so he let her enjoy it at her own pace. It was somewhat endearing how engrossed she seemed to be. He was just able to see emerald flickers back and forth beneath her dusky lashes as she went from one line of text to the next.

For the next hour they sat together, her reading, him intermittently leaning his cheek against the top of her head and blessing it with a gentle kiss. She would nestle closer, and his hand would sink just an inch or two along the curve of her side.

It was around page one hundred that Hope noticed how long it was taking her to turn the page. He moved just enough to look down and see her face, finding her eyes closed. He shook her just a little.

"Just resting my eyes," she muttered sleepily.

"Okay." he replied, his tone hushed. "Enjoying it?"

"Mm-hm." and she nodded, her cheek still against his chest.

"Do you want to go to bed?" it had to be pretty late by now, he thought.

"No, I'm not sleepy." and she opened her eyes again, resuming where she left off.

"You look pretty tired to me." he mentioned. "Maybe we should call it a night."

Vanille whined a little as he closed the book and set it aside, sitting up straight long enough to reach forward and untie his boots. He kicked them off, the heavy soles smacking the floor as he lounged back again.

"You can stay here tonight if you want."

"What about you?" this cot wasn't exactly big enough for two. Well, two if they didn't mind the sensation of being sardines squashed in a can.

"I've got an extra sleeping bag under the bed. And now I have a floor so," he laughed a little. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I go and find Fang. Can't say I'm too sure she'd approve of us doing this." which made him wonder why he even bothered to extend the invitation to begin with.

"I think she'd approve less of me being out and about at night." Vanille considered honestly. "She can't be worried about me being alone with you too much if she hasn't come looking for me by now."

"Maybe," Hope still sounded uncertain. "Well...I guess we could go ahead and turn in, and if she comes for you, then...well...yeah."

"Okay." she nodded, sounding as hesitant as he did.

Hope eased off the bed, crouching beside it to reach under the frame, revealing the second sleeping bag still rolled up tight. He stood long enough to unfurl it beside the cot, then he went to his knees to smooth out a few of the creases before partially unzipping it.

"Do you want me to leave the light on?" he asked as he stood up, going for the switch.

"No, it's fine."

"You're sure?"

She nodded her reassurance, still sitting up in the bed as he flipped the switch and the dwelling went dark. Vanille could hear his shuffling footsteps as he worked his way blindly back towards the bed. Without any forethought she reached out, by chance finding his hand as it searched about. Their fingers laced together almost instinctively.

"Thanks," he whispered with a hint of a nervous laugh.

"Why are you whispering?"

He chuckled, not sure how to answer. It was ingrained in his mind that lights out equaled inside voice. Hope lowered himself as if to lie in his own space, but found his rump on the edge of the cot instead, the telling creak reminding him where he actually was. Their hands remained fixed together.

Vanille found security in his gentle grasp, a warmth in her chest that eased what little tension there was.

"Vanille?" came his whisper.

"Hm?"

"Can...can I kiss you good night?"

He couldn't see it, but she smiled. What a romantic. "Yes you may." she conceded with a breathy laugh.

Hope scooted a little closer until he could feel her just inches away, and then leaned forward just so. He felt her breath against his cheek and turned towards it. Somehow they found each other with the first attempt. It was warm, soothing, innocent. His free hand found her shoulder, gently easing upward to cup her cheek. Perhaps out of some quiet curiosity that bordered on instinct, she arched her body, drawing closer to him. Vanille didn't expect him to mimic the motion, certainly not right away or as smoothly as he did.

His hand unlaced from hers and eased towards the small of her back, his arm curling about her waist until they were flush together. The kiss deepened. Hope held her with a gentle but sincere temerity, his arms secure about her smaller frame. He could feel her shake, just slightly, like a small animal. He could almost taste the hesitation in her lips, how they paused against his own. He drew back, their breath a stagnant echo in the darkness.

"You all right? Did I scare you?" his entire body tightened, ready to retreat at a moment's notice.

Her hands gripped his forearms, fingers curling. He had noticed. "No," she paused, trying to find the certainty in her answer. "No, it wasn't you." and her voice was a breathy whimper.

She wanted it to work, wanted to see if she could handle that kind of touch without freezing up, but she just couldn't stop the shaking. Somehow, kissing him, being held that way, so close, set her skin alight with repulsion. Like drowning, there was a desperate clawing in her to separate from him.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't. What did I do?"

"N-nothing." she knew he wouldn't see her turn her head away in bitter shame. "It's just me." and she hated to admit it.

"Did you think I was going to hurt you?" it was an innocent question, laced with concern.

"Of course not," it was true, though loosely. There was that tiny voice, a terrified child of a murmur in the back of her mind telling her to stay away, to keep him at bay. _Don't let him touch_.

_He's just a man, and all men are the same._

_ They all want the same thing._

Vanille shook her head, trying to chase the thoughts away. They weren't true. Not true at all.

"Vanille, please," he pried her hands off his arms, feeling the burn of marks left from her nails digging into him. He clasped both of them between his palms. "Talk to me."

She didn't want to. It had been barely a week and she didn't have the words yet, just thoughts, horrible memories and bad dreams.

When so much time passed without her speaking, he shrugged. More guilt rippled through her at the sound, her chest tightening.

"It's okay. Can I hold you at least?"

Still she didn't answer, but fell against him, her palms against his chest. Hope found his balance, not expecting her to move so suddenly and with that much force, and let his hands curl over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry." she said again, a whimper against his shirt.

"It's not your fault." he felt soft tresses of her hair beneath his chin as he dipped his head. "No one's blaming you."

"I didn't mean to...I was...I wasn't scared," but she just couldn't stop the shaking.

"You don't have to explain," he stroked her hair, twining some of it between the fingers of one hand. "I'm not going to push you."

She smiled, finding him sympathetic to a fault.

"This...whatever this is," he paused, pondering, "we can take it as slow as you want."

Vanille felt her brow knit in the middle, her mind buzzing with what he had said. It was valid to address what it was they were doing. They weren't exactly dating, not officially, but they weren't exactly just friends anymore. Maybe what she found the most puzzling was the simple fact that he knew, to some vague degree, what she had been through. Yet he still had, what appeared to be, some form of attraction to her. Was it out of pity for the scars that marred her back? An obligation to shield someone as weak as herself from a cruel, cruel world?

Or did he really...

The question lingered in her mind, incomplete as she lost herself in the soft touch of his fingers on her scalp. Without realizing it he brushed over the toughened bump on the back of her head. Since when had it stopped hurting? Regardless, she found the gesture soothing, the tension that had once pulsed through her muscles retreating.

The shaking stopped, and thus his own reservations eased. His hand in her hair chanced to smooth over the bend of her neck and down her back. He could feel them beneath the soft cotton cloth, the small rises and ridges of the markings he'd only seen once before but couldn't forget. Hope felt his insides knotting up.

Vanille was struggling with her thoughts, trying her damnedest to fight back the darkened tide of shame that threatened to swallow her whole. Every time she made even the smallest advance against it, it would surge again.

_I'm home now,_ she chanted in her head, her hands curling into fists over his chest. _I'm home, I'm safe._

But then there was that small, hissing sort of voice that lingered about between her ears. It doesn't matter where you are, it would counter softly. Sounding hauntingly familiar. Pain surged.

_I'm safe here, my friends won't hurt me_.

They don't have to. _I did that enough for all of them._

Vanille felt herself go cold.

_"Would you rather he fuck you instead of me?"_

Her stomach lurched. Without a word she shook her head, grinding against Hope, trying to force the echoes out. Hope could only watch, hold on, unsure of what it was she was fighting.

_No_, she asserted. _No, Hope isn't like you._

Deliberately she went over everything that separated the two from one another. Almost everything fell in Hope's favor. The simple fact that Hope genuinely cared for her well being made him worlds apart, and it certainly didn't hurt that his skin wasn't the same temperature as that of a corpse. The vampires had been so indifferent, so _unfeeling_...but Hope had a heart big enough for ten men.

And considering the few small affections they had shared thus far, it seemed he was willing to give it all to her.

That allowed her to breathe, to relax and chase the pain down. Her fists loosened as the heat of tears burned her eyes.

Hope wasn't entirely sure what just happened, only that it had at all, and something heavy had just passed through him. Then he felt wet warmth blossoming through his shirt.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, nothing," she assured him, sniffling and rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay."

He frowned though he knew she couldn't see. He was _this_ close to expressing his blatant disbelief, but bit his tongue. When she's ready, he kept telling himself. No sooner.

"M-maybe we should just...go to bed." she eased away from him, chin against her shoulder, hands wringing gently together.

"Okay." Hope relented without protest. What was there to argue? He slid down onto the sleeping bag he had rolled out, the zipper whirring as he pulled it open further to squirm inside of it. He lay on his back, eyes on the ceiling as he listened to the rustling and creaking of the bed beside him until it ceased. He was still, but restless in the silence.

The cot creaked again and he felt Vanille's hand ease over one of his as they were resting over his stomach.

"Thank you." she whispered.

He didn't know what she was thanking him for. What had he done except upset her? Still, he accepted without question, knowing it might have been for a reason she just couldn't tell him yet.

"You're welcome." and his restlessness eased as they held on to each other.

_(II)_

Teh'Han stepped into Hana's tent just as he had earlier, only this time he felt a lump form in his throat almost immediately. He had been feeling tense since he came into the shadow of the Pass of Paddra, but this damn near gave him a heart attack. He caught a glimpse of the teenage girl sitting beside Hana around the fire just as Karma got to his feet to greet him. Karma was a man of similar stature, though slightly shorter and maybe broader in the shoulders than Han, with a face and head full of wild red hair. He begged his brother-in-law to come and sit.

Han's eyes kept drifting towards her, his daughter that he had yet no name to address her by. And she would let her gaze hang on him as well, looking just as curious. Part of him wondered if he was anything like she had expected, if she had expected anything at all. Another part of him was itching to ask.

Hana demanded not a word of conversation until after they had eaten, which was how it had always been done. Maybe the Kushtan foremothers thought it rude to talk and eat at the same time. With that being said, you can imagine the uneasy quiet that filled the tent as they ate. Spiced mutton and flat bread. For Han it was like meeting an old, cherished friend, a taste of home that he'd never realized he missed. The first bite had his eyes threatening to roll back in his head.

"Been some time, hasn't it?" Karma asked with a knowing smirk as the remnants of the meal were pushed aside.

It was strange to hear his voice, Han thought. Stranger still to know he was actually speaking with _him_. "Yes, too long I think." still he answered, not wanting to be rude. "Thank you, Hana, for the meal. It was wonderful."

"Glad you enjoyed it." she nodded. "My scouts told me about the settlement out on the steppe. What tribe is there?"

"No tribe." Han shook his head. "The people of Cocoon are trying to make a new home for themselves there. Many survived the fall."

The three of them looked at him, brows raised in the exact same, disbelieving way.

"Their home is in ruin so they thought to just take ours?" Karma sniffed.

"No, no, it isn't like that." Han raised a dismissive hand. "They're not bad people. In fact they're no different than you or I."

"A nest of vipers," Hana said as if to remind him.

"But the legends were wrong." He met her eyes, unyielding. "I've spent enough time with them to know. Besides, there's enough room on Gran Pulse for everyone, isn't there?"

"You may know them, Han, but I don't." Hana dipped her chin as she leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "And while your word counts in their favor, I'm still not satisfied."

"What are you proposing to do, then?"

"I want to meet with their leaders first."

"I'm afraid they haven't one." Han's gaze softened. "They have just suffered a raid by the vampire's not three days ago, and he was among the dead." Bradley had been the closest thing to a friend he had on the steppe, and it hurt to think of him.

Hana paled a little, as did her husband. The young girl remained quiet, seemingly unmoved.

"Even now they are still trying to recover, and soldiers have come from Cocoon." he remembered the small collection of airships that were filled with them, all of them with guns. It had startled him. "It's safe to assume these people don't stand to do us any real harm, not in our lifetimes."

"And our lifetimes are half over," Hana made clear, "but there are plenty more that have just begun. They deserve the security we had."

_You mean_, he thought bitterly, _the security _you_ had_. He had been ostracized and left alone his entire life, so how could she possibly be including him in her argument?

For a long moment they appeared to be staring each other down, perhaps waiting for one to relent to the other. Though Hana was surprised at how her brother-in-law was resisting her this way. She hadn't expected it, having always thought him the submissive type.

"Well, no more of that for now." She gave way to him, breaking their warring gazes. "Let us talk of something else."

"Tell us what happened to you, Teh'Han. How did you survive all this time?" Karma requested with some inappropriate degree of curious anxiety.

Han made a strange face, a part of him refusing to believe that these people, his own relations, had suddenly enough of a fuck to give him. It was unnerving.

So he recounted the last sixteen years, leaving out a great deal of the finer details simply for the sake of letting sleeping dogs lie. He didn't feel up to saddling himself with the dull ache tonight. And he didn't fail to notice his still nameless daughter hanging on his every word. It nigh on made him nervous.

When he had finished, shrugging as he concluded with the events of just the passed weeks, his in-laws gawked at him. What, didn't they believe him?

"By the gods," Hana shook her head. "I didn't realize...I didn't think you had it in you, Teh'Han."

"I'm sure there's a lot of things you don't think about me." he nodded, his expression vague but his eyes firm on her.

But she agreed with what he said, albeit silently. She looked away, showing her submission to his truth without a single word. Then she lifted her head, reaching for Karma's hand.

"Come, husband, walk with me."

"Yes, wife." Whipped.

Han didn't expect that. Sure, he expected a very awkward, shifty-glanced introduction, but not to be left alone to work it out by himself. Hana just left him. He felt his body heating, his mouth drying out. At first he was unable to look at her, though he could feel her gaze heavy on him, like a swell of gravity over his head.

Han was trying so hard to speak, his mouth opening in futile, silent words that went unseen as his head was dipped as low as it could be.

She saw him struggling. "Father?"

The word struck him, his body recoiling. Somehow he found the courage to lift his eyes to her. He could feel his loss of words showing on his face, features stretched down and the middle of his brow vaulted.

"Or should I use your name?"

"N-no," he tried. "It is fine, so long as it suits you."

She nodded.

"What should I call you?" he asked, thinking it a fair question.

"Hana calls me Lyra." she replied.

"It's a good name." it had no real meaning, but it was a pleasant sound. "You...ah, you look very much like your mother." he thought to laugh, letting his nervousness ease out a little at a time.

"So I've been told." she smiled, assuring him of that fact.

"But you have my hair." he scratched his head. "I'm sorry."

"It is beautiful hair," she corrected him plainly. "I am proud of it."

"Oh." her response surprised him. "And...and I see you have my eyes." She really did, dim silver just like his own.

"They are honest eyes, and I am proud of them also." again she gently chastised his unrequited shame. "Should I be ashamed?"

Well, all things considered... "I would imagine so."

"I'm not."

He nodded. "Very well."

They went back and forth this way for quite some time, Lyra consistently biting off any of his attempts to shortchange himself. He saw Hana in that, now fully assured that she had raised the girl. But it didn't bother him, she was stronger that way.

When they ran out of things to tit-tat about, they were quiet for a moment. Han was feeling much more relaxed, like he had gotten to know her enough to not to have any expectations. Not until she stood up, circled the dwindling flickers of the flames in the fire, and sat beside him. He immediately tightened from head to toe, his eyes widened. She looked up at him, daring to meet his unsettled eyes, hunching forward.

"You look very much like I imagined you." she said.

"Oh...do I?"

"Hana described you to me before," her eyelids thinned, her eyes searching him. "Though she never mentioned the beard."

"Well, I'm much older now. It's more appropriate." he ran his hand over his head, mussing his hair.

"What happened?" she pointed, though he didn't see. "Your other arm?"

"Oh, that," after a moment he shrugged. He'd left that part out. "It was a cave in...I was trying to save my friend."

Lyra made no comment, gave no answer, only nodded.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No, not really." it was sore at times, spasmed from the severed nerves, but no genuine pain unless it was irritated.

Again she nodded, saying little else. They were quiet for a time, much like some minutes ago before she came to sit beside him. And like then, she made another physical gesture after a moment. She took his hand in both of hers, pulling it into her lap.

He could only look down at her, marveling. She seemed to inspect his finger, feeling the knuckles and the thickly calloused pads with a deliberate intent.

"They're soft... and strong." she said after a long while.

"They weren't always like that." he said as if in regret for some egregious error.

Lyra gave him a look that he had learned to interpret as disapproving, like she was going to scold him again. But then she looked away without a word, seeming no longer interested in the peculiarities of his hand as she set it aside. On her knees she settle in front of him, curiosity creasing her young, soft features. She was looking at his face, he could feel it, and he was unsure what to do. Perhaps jut holding still would suffice?

She put both of her hands on his cheeks, holding him in place, still scrutinizing him like some impossible puzzle. Her thumb brushed the thick scar on his face, the thinner one that parted one eyebrow, and then the one the marred his top lip. She ran her fingers through the bristle of his whiskers, then his hair, and tugged on the tail at the nape of his neck. All the while he didn't move.

Her hands settled on his cheeks again, pulling forward so his face scrunched in a ridiculous way.

"You don't smile much."

"How could you tell?" he honestly wanted to know.

She loosened her grip enough to trace her thumbs around his mouth. "The hair hides the creases. Am I right?"

"Yes, you are." he pulled back just enough for her to release him. "I haven't had very much cause for it."

She made no comment or question of it, remembering his story. "Even now?"

"Well," he looked away, insisting a long stem of contemplative silence.

Lyra settled onto her backside in front of him, her eyes keen on his face as she watched it twist and tighten with a swirl of different expressions. What was he thinking?

"Father?" there was something she needed to know, something she could no longer wait to ask.

This snapped his attention directly to his daughter, who he regarded with a gentle sense of vulnerability.

"I have a question."

"Anything." there was no hesitation.

"Would...if you knew," she wanted to choose her words carefully. "Would you have come for me if you knew?"

He felt his body deflate, his heart slumping into his stomach. His face lined with a stiff discomfort. "If I had even the smallest glimmer of hope, I would have. But...I was so convinced you had not survived. I'm ashamed to say."

She gave him the disapproving scowl again. "Do you always make blame for yourself where there isn't any?"

His heart hitched. Hadn't Shilo said something like that once before?

"You must forgive me then," he laughed pitifully. "Your father is a coward." and he took her hand, offering up his submission with her knuckles to his forehead.

"I don't believe it." though she saw fit to give him a firm tap with her palm on the crown of his head. "And _that _was for saying such things."

Her reaction surprised him, though only just so. She had been chastising him like this since their conversation began, after all.

"A real coward wouldn't have had the heart to do half of things you have," her eyes were hard on him, silver daggers. "Unless those were all lies?"

"No," he shook his head feverishly.

"And you certainly would not be here, as you are, to see me. You're no coward, father."

And those silver daggers pierced him with that word. "You're too kind."

"I am honest." she corrected him again.

"Yes, you are. Though I fail to see the courage you seem to see in me. All your life I've been running...hiding from this...and from you, it appears."

"So why didn't you come home?"

Han's eyes slid away from her, the lids heavy like his brow over them. "This has never really been much of a home. I was never welcome, even with my own people. Even after your mother and I married, I was of little worth to anyone."

"Well, now that you are with me, that will change, won't it?"

In a way, he nodded with the thought. Kushtan men were considered second class citizens until they fathered a daughter, but for Han that may not apply the same. He had such a negative stigma against him already.

"If I stay." he said in the end. "Though I don't believe I'm allowed."

"I would allow you. Hana listens to me."

"Well I should certainly hope so, you're her heir." Han said matter-of-factly.

"But would you stay? If I asked you to?"

His heart lurched again, and his mind seized with a flurry of questions. Would he stay? Would anything really change? Would he still feel unwanted, unwelcome?

"I suppose...I would need to think this over a great deal."

Lyra looked almost disappointed, her brow lifting in the middle. She looked away from him as she said, "I would imagine so. Hana says we'll probably stay here until the end of the summer," and then she turned back to him, her expression beckoning.

Her gaze could both warm and scald him, he realized. A trait she earned honestly from her mother. "That's long enough to consider it, I think." his response was seemingly uncertain, as if he said it simply to pacify her so she would stop considering him in such a pressing way. "We shall see."

Lyra nodded, showing her lackluster satisfaction. And after that came another stretch of that damnable quiet.

"I have another question." her voice came so much later that its reappearance somewhat startled him. He jumped a little.

Han lifted his brows, showing he was listening.

"Is...has there been anyone else? Since mother?"

Teh'Han didn't need to think it over. "No. Though...recently I've been considering that I would like to fall in love again. Do you not approve?"

"That's not it." she shook her head, her long chestnut hair tossing across her back and shoulders. "I was just wondering."

"Oh. Afraid I'm not much of a curiosity."

"You seem lonely." not a question, but a statement of an observed fact. A very well observed fact.

And he was. After much humming and hawing over it for the last few weeks, he had finally accepted that.

"It isn't so bad," he lied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have friends."

"Do you?" her eyes lit up a little, though one brow lifted higher than the other, belying her mild surprise. "Could I meet them?"

"I don't see why not. Perhaps tomorrow."

"I would like that." she smiled, an expression that genuinely snared her father's attention. It made him smile as well. "Are you going to stay here tonight?"

"I don't believe so. I have a great deal of work to do and I like to start early." and that was no lie.

"Then might I come and visit you? Hana told me you had a house here on the steppe."

"I do. If you leave the pass, continue due north and you will find Aggra's Pasture. Would you rather I come for you, though it'll probably be before sun up."

"I can find my way." she nodded confidently, watching as her father hesitantly stood. It was late. "Before you go,"

Han watched her curiously as she too stood up. Lyra stepped away from him, to a darkened portion of the tent, and returned to stand before him one more, a bundle of things in her arms.

"Hana told me to give these to you."

His heart staggered once again. It was his wedding clothes, and he only realized at this very second that he had not retrieved them upon his first visit when he had been so vehement about it. He took them, draping the clothes over his one arm, finding them heavy with memories.

"Thank you." he said, dipping his head with a slight nod.

"So, I will see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, if it pleases you."

"It does. And I will have more questions for you then, be sure."

"I have no doubt." but he liked the idea. He appreciated her curiosity like he never knew he would. "Goodnight, daughter." and the word came easily, more easily then he thought.

"Goodnight," and she eased her arms around his neck, holding him close enough to bestow a kiss on his cheek.

Never had he been so happy to have his heart broken. It was the first time it brought him joy instead of pain.

Author's Note: Somehow I'm feeling a bit funny about this one, not sure why. Part of me feels like I've lost the voice of this story, now that all of the tragedy is over and done with, all the violence passed. Maybe I just need a short break, take a breather, and let my mind wander elsewhere for a time. Yes, that that sounds good. As far as Lyra is concerned, though, I'm guessing she seems a little two-dimensional right now. But I'll work on that as I go. Thanks to you, readers, for making it this far. I appreciate it.


	40. Chapter XXXIX

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

Teh'Han woke without a start, going about his morning routine with no real hurry in his actions. Though his heart was fluttering. His hand started to shake as he wound the stretch of brown, tattered cloth about him, not wanting to tarnish the fine silk sari with his usual work. He tried to ignore it as he stepped outside, whistling to Gurthang to gather the sheep, but it tickled the back of his neck. A persistent itch. Soon the sun would rise over the valley, soon his daughter would be here to see him.

It would be a lie if he said he wasn't excited.

Han gave each of the sheep a once over, checking the thickness of the wool as it would be time to sheer them soon. And the ewes he looked for any signs of pregnancy. There were but a couple of them with a slight swell to their already fluffy bodies. From there he went to tend to the chocobos, feeding them and dwelling just a moment to watch them whistle and warble at one another. From there he went on to the garden, to the trees that were only just starting to the shed their blossoms in place of the beginnings of the first fruits. Part of him was hoping for rain soon, seeing some of the sprouts in the tilled earth had hints of yellow in their leaves. Perhaps he would just give in and make a trip to Sulyaa. The water there was good for the earth, but it would be a trip he would need an entire day to make. Maybe tomorrow...

The only other task on his mental list of things to do for the day took him back inside. With Gurthang just at his heels, Han began to rummage through the remnants of the pile of firewood beside the hearth. He searched carefully for the proper piece. He needed to replace his largest hatchet, as he had lost it in the flight from Arash, perhaps from the fall. True, he still had the box of hatchets he had ordered from the center the passed winter, but he had no love whatsoever for the handles they used. Too light with their polymers and plastics. Usually he would just toss that away once he had freed the blade from its flimsy grasp. Gurthang would use them as chew toys until he grew bored and buried them.

He made better handles anyway, and he was very particular. It had to be the perfect shape, the perfect weight, and he would need to be able to accurately throw it in order to be satisfied.

To start he lay down the log in front of Gurthang, who began to chew it almost manically to get what strips of bark were left on it. While the dog did his job, Han went in search of the needed tools, which he typically left piled in a corner somewhere...

Han had just discovered them when his heart jumped, a knock resounding from his door. Adrenaline flooded his system as excitement piqued, and he practically ran to answer it. The door nearly ripped from the hinges with his enthusiasm.

"Morning, big brother!"

The cheerful, somewhat squeaky greeting shocked him, though his visitors were equally unexpected. For a moment he simply stared at the two of them, brows hiked high and mouth slightly ajar.

"Is something the matter?" Vanille asked, noticing his funny expression.

"Wha? Oh, no, no, I just...I was expecting someone else."

"Oh, sorry." she wilted. "I hope were aren't bothering you..."

"Hm? No, please, come in." and he took a breath to keep his disappointment disguised, showing Vanille and Hope inside.

Han felt a small warmth blossom in his heart when Vanille referred to his home as "cozy", never mind that he had never felt like that for it himself. It was just a place to stay out of the rain and cold as far as he considered it.

"Please, sit anywhere." he allowed as he went back to the hearth, suddenly realizing he was going to have to fight the dog to get the wood back. He bent down and started an impromptu game of tug-of-war with Gurthang.

The two of them plopped down on the couch, both seemingly entertained by the animal's behavior.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, having yanked the log free.

"Actually," Vanille began, her ankles crossed and hands folded in her lap, "Fang asked me to come and see you. Something about how last night might have stressed you out."

"Did she now? Hmm, I'm fine, though I appreciate the thought." he nodded, flinging the piece of wood to get some of the slobber off. "And what's that you have there, young man?"

Hope flinched when Han pointed at him, or more so, at the bundle in his arms.

"Well?"

"I was, um, hoping that maybe," he stammered at first, not accustomed to speaking to him still. Thinking it would help get the words out, he put the bundle in his lap and started to unwind it, revealing the shattered gunblade. "I was going to ask if you would help me fix it. I can put it back together, but..."

Han's face creased, his brow low over his eyes. He eyed the broken pieces, the shards of steel, took one to turn in his fingers. "Some of these...yes, they'll need to be replaced completely. It will take some time...maybe a month or so, and I will need some raw materials."

"I can get you anything you need." Hope assured him, an air of gratitude in his tone and his small smile. To be honest he had been hesitant to ask, mostly not knowing Teh'Han all that well to begin with. But there was also that reservation of his only having one arm. Would the request insult him? "And I'll help you, if you need it."

"I don't think I will...though if I'll be doing this, you two could tend the animals for me."

Hope didn't know the first thing about it, but agreed all the same. Well, let me rephrase that; Vanille agreed for the both of them. And she prodded him with an elbow as if to say "I told you so".

"Very good." Han nodded, his expression having softened. He took the bundle of pieces from Hope and set them down on his table.

"So who were you expecting, Han?" Vanille asked, watching him gather some tools and pull the chair away from the table.

"My daughter is coming to see me." he replied, taking a seat. "I suppose...maybe I thought she would be here by now."

"I didn't know you had any children," she responded with surprise.

"Until yesterday," he laughed a little, "neither did I."

Her mouth opened as if to say something, to ask how that could be possible, but something told her to keep it to herself. If he wanted to explain, he would.

"But don't think yourselves a bother," he continued, "it's nice to have some company."

Though the two of them thought his idea of good company to be somewhat odd. He didn't try to maintain any conversation as he worked at the table, with Gurthang's help splicing the log into thirds with a hammer and wedge. He was still quiet as he unrolled an assortment of knives and carpentry chisels. Maybe it was just the thought that someone was there, another human being, and that he wasn't completely alone.

"How are things at the settlement?" he asked finally, steadily chipping away at the wood. He used the middle of his chest and the edge of the table to keep the wood in place as he worked.

"Oh, well, it's pretty quiet." Vanille was slightly startled by the sound of his voice. "Things have calmed down."

"That's good to hear." Han nodded. "Are the soldiers still there?"

"Most of them."

"Any word on how long they'll stay?"

"Not yet."

"I hear rumors," Hope added. "Some say a month, others say just a few more days. Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Indeed." Han blew a few chips off the table with a firm breath. "How fares everyone?"

"Fine, I suppose." Vanille began to wring her hands. That wasn't the entire truth, though she felt the need no to worry him with that. Bard had been doing a little better, he didn't need to have someone checking on him round the clock to make sure he didn't fall asleep any longer. But he couldn't stand to be upright for more than a few moments before feeling the need to hack.

And then there was Lightning.

Vanille had been suspicious of what many of the others had been for some time already, and it was all based on what she had heard them say in regards to Han. Did he really feel for her like that? It was Vanille's understanding that they hadn't gotten along since day one. How could that change over the course of only a couple of weeks?

But the soldier's condition had yielded to little change over the last few days. Though there was that little scare last night. An artery had ruptured in Lightning's arm where the IV had first been. Not that it was a heavy bleed, but it took some time for anyone to notice it, and by the time someone had, her blood pressure had dropped to startling levels. Thankfully, that was the worst to be said about it so far.

Vanille bit her tongue against mentioning it, thinking it best. "We're managing." she said instead.

"That's good."

Then there was another knock at the door. Han jumped up, scattering tools in his hurry, even scaring Gurthang enough to jump. His heart quickened once more, his veins pounding. And to his hidden delight, he met his own eyes.

"_Han'Tasa, Han'Lun._" Lyra greeted him, extending her hand for him to take. He returned the gesture in the traditional way and then offered her entrance into his home, leaving the door open as they went, thinking it would be nice to have more light and some fresh air.

"Please, sit." he eagerly suggested. "Would you like something to drink?"

"I'm fine, father, thank you. Oh, are these some of your friends?" she asked as she rounded the sofa.

"Yes," he smiled enough to show his teeth. "Lyra, this is my _Tah'Sol_ Vanille, and this is Hope."

Lyra seemed pleased to meet them, greeting Vanille in the customary way, just as she did Han, and Hope did his best to reciprocate the gesture. Though Lyra didn't release his arm after they had leaned away from one another. She looked to her father curiously.

"Is he from up there?" and she pointed, gesturing to where Cocoon used to be. When Han nodded, Hope still seeming baffled, Lyra smiled. "That's what I thought. Are all of them this pale?"

Han laughed. He actually laughed like he felt it.

"Some of them are worse." Vanille added with a giggle of her own.

"Can I meet them too, father?"

"In time." he was still smiling so wide. "Let me get along a little further in my work and clean myself up. Then we will go."

And all the while Gurthang had been watching the humans as they interacted, his head cocked sideways, curious. Normally his curiosity was free flowing, demanding he have at least a sniff to something new, but he resisted. This new human was making his master act strangely, making him laugh and smile in a way Gurthang was not accustomed to. It made the pup slightly wary. But then the stranger approached him and scratched his chin.

All was forgiven.

Han sat back down at the table, returning to his project, seeming so unusually content now when he'd been uptight before. He would spend only an hour or two more on the ax handle, though he managed to accomplish much more in that short amount of time than he usually would have. He listened to the casual conversation his guests were having and it just...it lightened his heart. And Gurthang being so complacent, even as Lyra played with his massive paws - something he hated - it only reassured the sensation. Was this what it was like to have a real family? Now, all he was missing was a wife...

His thoughts trailed off, but only for a brief moment. He didn't want to risk how good he was feeling to chance thinking of something so depressing. He focused on his work instead, the old stand-by, until it was mid afternoon. The handle now had a basic shape, though still had rough edges and the potential for splinters. There was plenty left to do with it, but Han decided it was a good enough place to stop for a while. Besides, his knuckles were starting to hurt. Got to love old age.

Han brushed off the wood chips and dust, changed into his silken sari, and the lot of them left the house. Phantom was waiting outside, to Han's slight surprise. So she had tamed him after all? Well, Vanille being _Meh'Hana_ had only been an educated guess before.

"There's room for everyone," Vanille stood beside the horse with her hand on its shoulder, the muscles twitching at her touch."

"I will walk, thank you." Han relented.

"As will I." Lyra raised a dismissive hand with a short nod. "We will see you there."

And the two of them waited for the stallion and its riders to move on, leaving the pasture completely, before beginning to walk side by side.

"They seem like good people." Lyra said as they made their way down the narrow earthen passage and into the steppe.

"They are." Han nodded. "Like most of the others I've met."

She only dipped her chin with a short hum of acceptance, and then was quiet for a moment.

"You will have to forgive my being late, father." Lyra apologized.

"It's no bother."

"I would have been here earlier, but Hana wished to speak to me." and with her current tone, perhaps she meant for him to know that in particular.

"Oh? What about?" his brows raised as he turned his head towards her.

Her brow knitted in the middle, belying a sense of...perhaps guilt? A bad taste in her mouth?

"Though she said not to mention it...Hana wants me to spend as much time with you as possible so I can see what these people from Cocoon are like. She wants to know if they can be trusted."

Han continued to walk through the stab of shock to his system, it didn't show on his face either. The idea of...Hana was being ridiculous, he thought. She was acting like she owned the entire steppe for gods' sake.

"Are you angry?" she seemed genuinely curious.

"We can discuss this later, Lyra." his voice came out firmer, rougher than he thought it would. "Until then, let's enjoy our time together." As for later, he and Hana were sure to have a word or two about this.

Though the severity that darkened his features left her uneasy, she gave a curt nod. What could be bothering him, she wondered.

At the settlement, almost everyone was out and about. Why not? It was a beautiful day. Partly cloudy, warm with a slight breeze, how on earth could anyone _want_ to be indoors today?

Vanille had told everyone they were coming, excited to impart the news. Those of the extended family who were able came to greet them, even Serah and Snow, Raul as well. And this was much to Han's surprise. Did they really give that much of a damn? Imagine that.

"Did you go and sprout yourself a twin, big brother?" Fang strode up to them, arms crossed, smirking.

"Very funny," Han almost felt his cheeks tingle with a slight blush. "Fang, this is my daughter, Lyra."

The two addressed each other in the usual way. All of them noticed then that, even though Fang was physically older than Lyra, they were the exact same height. But the Kushtan girl still had some growing yet to do, and Fang could decipher just from the girl's stout grip that she was strong, very strong. She suddenly had the itch to ask for a friendly match of arm wrestling.

Lyra surmised that Fang was strong as well, more so than she seemed to let on through the grip on her forearm. She spied the tattoo, recognized it as a hunter's mark, and regarded immediately what it meant.

"Well met, behemoth slayer," Lyra showed her respect.

"Same to you,"

And then the two separated, Lyra moving to meet the next unknown face, whilst Fang went to stand beside Han. Together they watched her go from one to the next, addressing each total stranger with a warm smile.

"Nice kid." she said. "I can see the resemblance."

"I suppose." now he really was blushing, the attention he was suddenly getting forcing it up into his face.

She leaned to try and get a glimpse of it, dipping her chin and smirking. "Jeeze, you barely know the girl and you're already choking up like it's her wedding day."

"Don't tease me," he tried to laugh, covering up the small crack in his voice.

"Well I guess you're entitled," she shrugged, patting his shoulder. "Now you and Snow can be crybabies together. Won't that be fun?"

Han managed a chuckle, quickly wiping his forearm across his eyes. He watched with a blossom of pride as his daughter shook Raul's hand, surprised that she would give the vampire more than a passing nod or glance. He swallowed the lump in his throat when she reached up and pressed her thumb to the vampire's mouth, forcing up his top lip that she might see his fangs. That demanded a rousing round of laughter from everyone, even Raul.

"She's curious," Fang nodded, her arms crossed over her chest once more. "That's a good sign." she looked to her tribal sibling again, smiling softly. "You should be proud."

"I am." he felt the need to wipe his eyes again.

"So I take it everything went well last night? Family getting along?"

"I suppose so. Yes. But it's strange," his brow knitted and his chin lowered towards his chest.

"How so?"

"They're treating me so...differently. I don't know what changed...but I don't think I like it." Han couldn't quiet describe it, even to himself, but he hoped Fang might be able to understand.

"Maybe we should palaver about it? Maybe ask Lyra?"

"I don't know if she has noticed." Han shook his head. "Still...mayhaps I should just take care of it myself."

"Sounds awfully ballsy," her tone was cautionary. "That's not like you."

And she was right, he realized with a sense of oddity towards himself. That was so very much unlike him, but then again, so was the amount of stagnant bitterness in him for his in-laws, who lay at the crux of the matter.

"What can I say," he started with a bit of a smirk, "you lot bring out the best in me."

"That's good to know, though it took you long enough to admit it."

And they laughed at each other.

The afternoon was spent showing Lyra around the settlement and introducing her to anyone she was curious to meet. The look of the soldiers from Cocoon seemed to marvel her most, their armor and weapons so strange, almost alien, she had to ask if they were real men and not some sort of construct. Her first look at an airship was one of wondrous awe, her mouth ajar with a smile as she inspected it from top to bottom. She had asked if she could actually board one of them and visit the fallen moon, much to her father's disapproval. Han was convinced it simply wasn't safe, a theory that the others who had been there were happy to support. Though she seemed disappointed, Lyra surrendered to her father's reasoning.

Before anyone realized it, the sun had begun to set over Archylte, the sky burning with the bright oranges and crimson of evening. The extended family gathered once more to bid Lyra farewell, though no one expected it to be for very long. In the short time the lot had spent together, there was already a steady bond blossoming.

"So?" Han asked as he walked beside his daughter, out into the steppe and towards the Pass of Paddra.

Lyra's expression scrunched. "I think that Eugene fellow was somewhat useless."

Han laughed as he thought back to the assistant clerk, having gotten the same impression when he first laid eyes on him. "That may very well be, but aside from that?"

"I like your friends, they're kind people." she smiled. "Very happy."

"Sometimes in spite of themselves." he nodded.

She was quiet a moment, thinking, then she looked at him. "Is Fang the one?"

"Is Fang the one what?"

"You had mentioned wanting to remarry, is she the one you were thinking of?"

"Gods no," he shook his head.

"Why not, don't you like her?"

"It's not that, Lyra. Fang is another of my _Tah'Sol_, she more or less adopted me." and the statement made him wonder if he had a sign around his neck requesting that everyone try to take him in. As they had so easily done as it is. "I like Fang very much, but...I don't think it would be right."

"I see." Lyra nodded slowly. "So who then? If anyone..."

Han looked on towards the horizon, to the jagged spine of the mountains surrounding the valley and hiding the sun. He shrugged.

"Who is she?"

Han looked to his daughter with surprise set in his eyes. Could she read his mind, or was he simply that easy to read?

Well, no point in lying, but he didn't have to tell her the whole truth either. The gods were always listening, after all.

"Perhaps you will get to meet her, perhaps not." he sighed with as little emotion as he could. "Though it's of little consequence...I don't believe she feels the same for me. I'm too...to her I'm just some primitive."

Lyra looked as if she didn't quite understand everything he said. Some words escaped her. "I don't suppose you've told her of your feelings?"

_Haven't had the chance._ He thought. No, not since he had realized what his feelings were. "No."

"What's stopping you?" she wondered.

"She was badly hurt in the raid," his brow lowered over his eyes, heavy enough to close his eyes briefly though he continued to walk. "And she's still very ill. I don't really know what's wrong with her, I didn't understand the words they used, but...she sleeps and there is a chance she may never wake."

Lyra saw her father's somber expression and felt it tearing at her heart. "I am sorry."

"Don't be." he chanced a imposterous smile. "That's my lot. Anyone I have ever loved I've had to lose. I'm little else if not unfortunate."

"You haven't lost me, father."

"No," he dipped his head. "But I missed so much. Holding you, watching you grow...I would give anything to have that back. The gods kept us apart with my ignorance, they have already taken you away. Though here you are..."

She said nothing, only frowned with deep sympathy for such a broken, weary man. They continued on, a tight sorrow stretching between them. Though she had yet to say a word about it, Lyra had missed him too, and she had only just come to know his face. Hana and Karma had been loving surrogates, but since she was old enough to know they were not her birth parents, she had felt an emptiness deep inside. She felt as though something was missing.

"Then I will stay here with you. We can be a family."

"No." Han countered immediately. "You are Hana's only heir."

"I don't care, she's not my mother." Lyra's tone changed to something firm, almost resentful. "You are my blood, I owe you this much."

"No, no," he said again, this time shaking his head. "Don't say such things. Your loyalty is to your people. If Naya still lived it would be no different. You are a chieftain's daughter, and that is that."

Lyra took a sudden, leaping step to stand in his way, eyes level, hers shimmering. "But you are my _father_, you are my family, and my loyalty is to _you_."

Han stopped, somehow unable to be surprised at her words. For a long while their gazes held, hers unyielding, his surrendering.

"Lyra, this is the way of things," he said after a tense moment. "Neither of us can change it. I...I can do nothing for you. A life with me would be...nothing. Your people need you, and with them you will have everything I know I can't give you. I would...burden you."

She said nothing, although her expression darkened, lines deepening around her eyes in a grimace. She looked on the verge of tears.

"Please try to understand." as much as he hated to say it, it was true. Lyra had her obligations, and if he truly loved her, he wouldn't try to undo them.

"Do you not love me?"

Han winced, the breath in his lungs escaping in a pained grunt. That was low, that was painful.

"Lyra, there are no words in any language that could honestly account for how much you are in my heart, but it is because of that that I say these things. You cannot abandon your people, they depend on you. Don't do what I did all your life, don't be me. Don't be a coward and run."

"Then stay with us, I will take care of you!"

"I still need time to consider that." his reply was quick, as if he already knew his answer but didn't wish to disclose it. Though he didn't much care for the thought of someone catering to him the rest of his life.

He put his massive hand on her taught shoulder. "Lyra, please, don't misunderstand; you're so precious to me, though I barely know you...but you have expectations you must meet, and I can do nothing to help you with that. Half of love is knowing when to let go, to do what you know is best in spite of how much it hurts. And what is best is for you to do what you must, what you were born to do...and let me go if necessary."

The look on her face was of defiant frustration. Clearly that wasn't what she wanted to hear.

Finally, he gave one last heave of breath. "Let us not talk about this now. We've had such a good day today. Another time, we'll discuss it further."

"Promise?" she almost snapped at him, her eyes like daggers from beneath her lowered brow.

"Promise." and they started on again. Han wanted to change the subject, letting his mind wander briefly to anything that was far away from what they had left for later. "So tell me,"

Lyra's expression suddenly softened to show her curiosity.

"Do you have a suitor, since you seem so interested in the possibility of mine?"

Lyra smiled, a slight blush coming to her face. This put her father at ease considerably, realizing he didn't like it at all when she was upset with him.

"I have my eye on someone, yes." she didn't look at him during the small confession. Perhaps the affection was still new.

"What's he like?"

"He's not as tall as you," she started, giggling a little, "but he's very strong."

"Does he treat you well?"

"Yes. He's gentle," she added. "I suppose you'll want to meet him?"

"Hmm. Though I know you don't need it, I would like to feel as though I'm looking out for you."

"I wouldn't want it any other way." she finally smiled at him, giving him the much needed assurance that he was still within her good graces.

When they reached the Kushtan camp at the archeopolis, Han bid Lyra find her beau, saying only that he needed a moment to speak with Hana first. Without being announced he strode into the chief's tent, his face tight with determination. Part of him felt somewhat fortunate that he didn't appear to be interrupting anything, though Hana showed evident surprise at the sight of him.

"Teh'Han, welcome," she greeted him as she sat there beside the fire. "Come, sit. I trust you and Lyra made it back safely?"

"Indeed." he grumbled.

"What's the matter?"

"Might I speak with you in private?" he raised one brow and slid his eyes to her husband, who was sitting just beside her.

"Of course. Karma, if you please,"

With a jerking nod the man stood and departed, his expression a curious one as he lingered for but a brief second.

"You look very troubled, brother." she said once certain they were alone.

"Because I am." his words were cutting, his jaw tightened. "I don't take kindly for me or my daughter to be used to bolster your suspicions."

Hana's brow hiked towards her hairline. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to know. Still, regardless, clearly he was aware, and her surprise faded abruptly. "I'm only trying to protect my people."

"The hell you are."

"I would think you more than anyone would understand, considering what you've been through. Our tribe has lost a lot of trust for outsiders these passed years."

"So you think to get them before they get you?"

"Isn't that wise?"

"Not when your supposed foe is harmless. You're not up against vampires here, Hana, they're just normal human beings looking for a place to call home." it was something he understood, so he could relate it to her with genuine conviction.

"This is not their home, Teh'Han, Pulse is _ours_!"

"And is it not big enough for everyone? Don't the legends say that Gran Pulse was the birthplace of _all_ life?"

"And their forefathers threw it away." Hana countered, her gaze thinning on him.

"But that doesn't make this land yours to give or take! If they're not fit to live here then let the gods deal with them. Stop pretending to feel threatened to justify your actions!"

"You think I'm _pretending_?" fury was lingering into her voice, her face reddened as her heart rate climbed.

"Clearly it isn't true if you would sooner send spies than go to face them yourself. Surprised? I know you far better than you guess, Hana. You're not afraid, you just want to know how easily you'll be able to push them around. If it suits you of course."

"How dare you,"

"I dare!" he was mad enough to stand up, his body snapping upright.

She copied the action, meeting his defiance with a breed of her own resistance. "I am your _chieftain_-,"

"My _chieftain_ is dead! I. Owe. You. _Nothing_...but gratitude for caring for my child. Although I doubt you would have even done that were she not the only chance you had to maintain the family line."

Hana gaped at him, disbelief as plain as the pallor of her face.

"You think I'm not aware of how much you _despise_ me? How _little_ you think of me? I _am_ Hana, as you have made that painfully clear since the beginning. As it stands the only reason I'll believe that my daughters lives is because you're barren!"

Hana staggered back. Never before had a man ever had the nerve, the unmitigated gall to speak to her in such a way. And he wasn't looking to back down or apologize either, his eyes fierce and wild like an animal.

Seeing as his in-law appeared at a loss for words, Han thought to vocalize the last of his thoughts, the ones meant to drive this conversation home and thus end it.

"This will not happen again, Hana. If I so much as hear a whisper on the wind of you using Lyra as you have tried to today, she and I will disappear and you will never find us. I know how to make that happen, and not even your best trackers will catch even a whiff of our trail. Ever."

As if it were possible, Hana paled further, as if she could feel his threats were true.

"And if you raise arms against these people, I will surely raise arms against you. Of that you can bet on."

"Not against your own people, Teh'Han,"

"_My own_ people? I've never been accepted by any of you, so why should I harbor any form of loyalty? Anything I have put up with thus far I've done out of respect, but I see _that_ is not returned to me either. I have my own people now, I have a new family," he paused to breathe, "and _you_ are not part of it. _These people_ are not part of it, not when all the care they have given me these passed days has been out of _pity_." and he spat that last word, driving it like a nail through the air.

Hana hadn't realized until just now, when he had finished, that she had been holding her breath. When she breathed again it was heavy pants, a minor struggle to capture oxygen. Sweet gods, was that really how he felt?

"Teh'Han...I..."

"Don't bother apologizing. I stopped wasting my energy waiting for it a long time ago." and now the bitterness was showing, like a raw, open wound.

"No, Teh'Han, you're right." Hana relented after a moment. "I...all of us...have made grave mistakes against you." she almost said "sorry" but knew he wouldn't hear it. "And it was for stupid reasons...stupid superstitions. Raising Lyra...we thought it would some how make up for it. But...I see that it did nothing to undo what we did."

Han felt a small fraction of the fury ebb, but his grimace held along with his stabbing gaze.

"What can I do? Ask anything of me, and it's yours."

"You have nothing I want, Hana." he sniffed. "And I have already said and made very clear what is on my heart in this matter. I think you would do well simply to mind it." and then he turned, meaning to leave as he was finished.

"Wait,"

His steps thudded to a halt.

"Is there...is there no forgiveness for us in you?"

Han sighed. "There is _nothing_ in me for you, Hana, you or the tribe. For many years now I have ceased to need your approval, and I have no care for the state of your guilt. That is your burden alone now, not mine." and he stepped outside, leaving the chieftain with only the echo of his words in her mind.

Outside he found Lyra with the young man she spoke of, finding him to be exactly as she described. They greeted one another and then began to walk, the three of them, getting to know each other better.

Han felt good, almost proud, and it showed in how he carried himself, how his steps seemed lighter as he walked. He could almost hear Fang's voice in his head;

_"Ballsy, big brother, real ballsy."_

He laughed to himself, finding that the Oerban would be right, had she actually said it like that. His mother would've killed him had he ever even thought of speaking to a chief in such a manner. But it had to be said, and now that the words were out for all the gods and their mothers to hear, it was no longer dangling about his neck. He was free of them.

It was a sensation akin to turning the last page of one of many chapters in a long, heart wrenching story. A storm had passed, and made way for something new, something bigger. A break in the clouds.

Life was going to be different now, he thought briefly.

As to the nature of that change, well, we'll just have to wait and see.

Author's Note: Here's another turning point in this story which, inevitably, is steadily drawing to its conclusion. Maybe another five chapters left, give or take. No guarantees. I have to say though, it's been a blast to write, and it's been almost a year since I've started it. Wow, a year. And thanks to all of you who've sat through it with me. Your feedback has been a driving force behind me. See you next chapter. And be sure to check my DA for new art for Blood Tithe as well as upcoming attractions!


	41. Chapter XL

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Forty**

And just like that, in the blink of an eye, a month had passed.

The relations between the Kushtan people and the settlement had changed little over the last weeks, though the tribe had moved into the greater area of the steppe. There had been almost no interaction between the two groups, everyone perhaps taking a live and let live stance on the matter. They simply ignored each other, going about their routines like the other wasn't even there.

The steppe had become somewhat warmer, Spring now in full swing with long days and warm nights that were aflutter with moths and fireflies. The stars had changed to fit the season, constellations not seen for a year now hovering overhead. Monsters and other nasties were everywhere, mating and hunting respectively. Which was prime opportunity for Fang's favorite pass time; the hunting of said nasties. Preferably not while they were mating. That was just rude.

Also, lets just face it, the rations sucked. And nothing beats fresh meat. That's right, vegetarians, I'm a carnivore. I know, I know, I'm sure I seemed so nice.

Though she hated to hunt alone, and Fang was rather surprised to have difficulty in finding someone to go with her. Bard wouldn't have it, and she mentally berated herself for thinking so foolishly that he would feel otherwise. Though he was feeling much better these days. But think, a satyr hunting was like a Tonberry _not_ trying to stab you. It simply wasn't done.

Then there was Vanille who had seemed to come down with a case of the flu. At least, that's what it seemed to be. Low grade fever, cough, fatigue, the usual suspects. Though it was strange as she wasn't getting any better, now two weeks in, but she wasn't getting worse. Maybe it was just one of those stubborn things. In turn, that took up a lot of Hope's time when he wasn't helping Teh'Han with repairing Lightning's gunblade. It was nearly finished now.

Snow couldn't hunt his way out of a paper bag, and Raul was a bit too...fancy to sully himself with such gory business. She had almost given up hope, on the verge of pouting.

"I will go with you." Lyra had offered. "If it's all right with father..."

Han had looked up from his work, his gaze shifting between his daughter and Fang in contemplation. He knew too well that the Oerban could be impulsive, careless even, but she had a protective streak to match it.

"I suppose." he shrugged. "Just don't be reckless."

Fang had jumped up from his sofa, threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "You're such a sweet heart. And don't you worry, we'll be careful."

Before he could tell them to be back by nightfall, they were already out the door. He could only sigh and then turn back to the task as he shook his head.

With heavy falls of the hammer, Han forced the rectangular piece of red hot steel into shape. Clicking his tongue at Gurthang made the pup pull the lever and work the mechanism to flip it on its other side. Hope would look up from time to time as he sat at the table, reassembling the weapon piece by piece as Han fabricated the parts.

"Is this about right?" the Kushtan looked to the younger man.

Hope stood without a second thought, setting down his tools to have a look. He looked the piece over as Han held it safely in a metal vice.

"That looks awfully close," he surmised aloud. "And to think you only looked at the schematics once..."

"I pay attention." he nodded. "Is this the last part you needed?"

"I think so." and in spite of his reserved answer, Hope sounded very confident. "I appreciate the help."

"It's nothing." Han turned away, easing the livid steel into a bucket of water, a cloud of bubbles rising with the loud hiss of steam. "Not like I had more important things to do." and he said this with a soft smile.

"Well, you could be spending more time with Lyra, couldn't you?"

"I suppose...thank you for the consideration." and he dropped the now cooled part onto the table within Hope's reach. Han took a well earned seat on the stump he usually worked on, slouching on the table with his chin on his forearm.

Quietly he watched Hope work, somewhat marveling at him. So many pieces, and yet he was putting them in their rightful place as if it was second nature. His motions were on the verge of feverish, but were precise. It was like he was a machine.

"You're very talented," Han said in passing.

"Not really, I've built a couple of these before." and not once did Hope look away when he spoke, just going right along. "Needed to make one from top to bottom for a test in school."

"Hmm."

Then the two were quiet for a time, not speaking again until Hope had finished. He lifted the completed weapon in his hand, looking down the spine of its sword form to check the alignment. It seemed fine. He shook it to listen for anything that was loose, there was no out of place chiming of vagrant parts. Then, with the flick of his wrist, it shifted to its gun form. The transformation was smooth, correct, even as it changed back again twice more. Lastly he pulled the trigger, hearing the hammer click but no discharge. He expected that though, he had taken the ammunition out.

"You did a great job, Han, really." Hope gave him an approving smile. "I think she'll be pleased."

Han only nodded, standing up.

"We could give it to Serah to hang on to, you know, until she can use it again."

"I suppose." he grumbled.

"You okay?" Hope noticed the change of tone, how he suddenly carried himself so slouched, his shoulders looking suddenly too heavy.

"Fine." was the last thing he said before he stepped down the flight of stairs beside the heart into the root cellar.

You can imagine how little he believed him, Hope even made a face to show it. Though, it was one he simply didn't have the courage to hold when Han returned. He had something in his hand, a glass jug, filled perhaps three-fourths of the way with a dark orange colored liquid.

"What's that?"

Han had rummaged for a smaller container, a water skin. "It is for Vanille...unless she's feeling better?"

"No, not much. At least it hasn't gotten any worse."

"At least." he nodded once. "This should help, though. My brother would make it for me whenever I was ill."

"You have a brother?"

"Had."

"Oh...sorry."

"It's all right." Han dismissed. "Help me?"

"Sure." and Hope held the water skin steady as Han managed to pour some of the cider into it. Hope didn't know what was in it, but it smelled good at least. "Do you want me to take it to her?"

"I was thinking of going to see her anyhow; I would do it myself if you don't mind."

"Of course not. I think the company would cheer her up."

Han nodded, in both gratitude and agreement as he had been thinking the same thing. He put his tools away, cleaned up, and whistled for Gurthang to follow as the two humans stepped out of the house.

And as they expected, Vanille was very happy to see them, though she couldn't show it right away as she was in the middle of a sneeze when they opened the door to Hope's dwelling. She looked so pitiful swaddled in a heap of blankets on the cot, a box of tissues nearby, red nosed and puffy eyed, but still she smiled.

"How are you, little sister?" Han asked as he bent down and kissed the top of her head.

"Miserable," she laughed a little, sniffing. "But I think I'll live."

"That's good." Han sat down beside her, gathering her up beneath his arm. He could feel the heat coming off of her face. "I've brought some cider for you."

"Thank you." she laid her head on his chest, seemingly content for the first time all day, even as Gurthang joined them, squeezing his way onto the small bed. "Where's Fang?"

"She's out hunting with Lyra. Gods only know when they'll be back."

"I had a feeling." Vanille laughed, which turned abruptly into a cough. "Fang tends to get a little stir crazy if she doesn't inflict serious harm on a baddie every now and then."

"We noticed." Hope added. He moved about looking for a pot or kettle to heat the cider in, thinking the sooner she started drinking some the sooner she would be well.

"So did you come out here just to visit me?" she looked up at Han.

"That," he nodded, "and the gunblade is finished. I was going to deliver it."

"So you fixed it. That's good."

"Are you falling asleep?" he tilted his head, a small smirk on the edge of his mouth.

Vanille only shook her head in meager protest. She was fighting it, but she was losing. Of course, Han never thought himself to be so comfortable as to put anyone to sleep, so he just blamed it on her being so under the weather. He recalled being sick a time or two in his life, able to sleep anywhere so long as it held still long enough.

In the end he eased away, helping her to lie down, her head on a pillow. Rest wouldn't hurt her, so it was best to let her have it while she could.

"That was fast," Hope marveled. "Then again, she didn't sleep hardly at all last night. Couldn't stop coughing."

"I'd thought as much."

"Then again, the bigger the male the more secure the females...at least that's what Shilo told me."

At first Han looked at the young man crookedly, and then smiled at the mention of the Leonin. That sounded very much like him indeed.

"It sounds like you got the speech," Han chuckled softly.

"I think so. I didn't ask for it, but,"

"Neither did I, but he gave it all the same, didn't he?"

Hope nodded. "Although, unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to get much bigger than this." and compared to Han, or Shilo, he was rather shrimpy.

"Well, certain things about Leonin philosophy don't exactly apply to humans." Han started for the door, reaching down for the gunblade as it sat in its holster. "This is one of those things. I suppose you could look at it another way,"

"And that would be?" he was genuinely curious, a single brow raised to prove it.

"How big you are doesn't really matter, so long as she feels safe with you."

Though Hope couldn't say anything towards the validity of that, as part of him was thoroughly certain Vanille didn't feel very secure with just him around. Maybe someday, but not today.

"Don't let it trouble you so much. Those lions can be silly folks." and he chuckled before he stepped out the door, leaving Hope just to nod and Gurthang to continue napping on the cot.

Outside Han took a deep breath, the fresh air putting a slight tingle in his skin. With the gunblade hanging on his shoulder he started forward, thinking briefly an inquisition, wondering where Serah might be. He didn't know the way to her dwelling, but he wasn't of the mind to simply turn around and ask Hope. Call him stubborn, or even lazy if it pleases you. With that being said, it could be out of simple reflex that he thought to go to the Resource Center. If anyone knew where he was trying to go, they would be there.

The first familiar face he found was Bard, who was actually outside for the first time in weeks. There was still a phantom purple splotch around his left eye, but he looked otherwise none the worse for wear. He was sitting in the grass, seemingly happy as can be as he played his violin and the few remaining colony children gathered to listen. Some of their parents stood by as well.

The satyr suddenly stopped, his eyes settling on Han as he came close. "There ya are, old fella! How are ya?"

"I'm well, as I can see you are." he nodded.

"Oh aye, I'll make it. Watch'ya got there?" Bard tipped his chin, gesturing to whatever the human was carrying.

"I was looking for Serah, have you seen her?" his brow furrowed as he went straight to the crux of the matter.

"Well, I ken I saw her husband...he went inside mayhaps an hour or so ago...supposin' she's with him?"

"Thank you." and Han went on his way with a nod.

"Oh aye, and good seein' ya."

Han only put up his hand as if to return the sentiment as he walked, not turning his head or gesturing to consider looking back.

Inside the center the first thing he noticed was the missing carpet. It had been pulled up and tossed away to leave bare cold concrete. Someone must have thought it easier to replace it all together instead of try and get all of the blood stains out of it. He went on, ignoring Eugene entirely as he fumbled through the storage closet, and turned to the right without even thinking about it. He did, however, realize just after Bard had shared his thoughts on Serah's whereabouts, where it might take him. If she was in the center, where else would she possibly be other than at her sister's bedside?

Han hadn't had the courage to come here before. Part of him still didn't. He didn't know what to expect, what he was going to see.

But, rest assured, there she was, with Snow and baby Lora. Han hadn't knocked on the infirmary door, but quietly pushed it open and poked his head in. Serah seemed to perk up at the sight of him.

"Han, good to see you, come in,"

Snow turned in his chair, Lora against his chest. "Hey man, nice haircut. Sis, your boyfriend's here,"

"Stop it," Serah bent forward and slapped his thigh.

Han's head snapped up, his gaze zeroing in on the only occupied bed. He thought, since Snow addressed her, that she might have woken up by now. No such luck. It left him puzzled, and the sight of her, even from this distance, was enough to weaken his knees. She seemed so weak, so frail. He looked back to Serah, his expression showing his withdrawn despair.

"Did you need something?" she asked, her tone sympathetic.

"Um, I...the weapon is finished." his eyes sank to the floor as he shrugged the holster down his arm, holding a strap in his hand. "I thought...I thought it best to give it to you."

Snow's eyes widened as they settled on the gunblade. "Really? Wow, I didn't think it _could_ be fixed with all the pieces it was in."

"Hope was a great help."

"Knew the kid had it in him." Snow nodded, then stood. He passed Lora off to her mother and said he would take the gunblade back to their place. It would be out of the way, that, and he had a feeling that three was a crowd. Serah had given him a covert look, one that asked him to make himself scarce.

Serah had a solid feeling that Han didn't fully understand what was going on, and that it was undoubtedly difficult for him to process it. She wanted to explain, but knew that would be much easier with her big-mouthed spouse elsewhere.

"Come and have a seat." she offered with a smile, reaching down towards the floor to the small radio sitting there, turning down the volume. Han hadn't even realized it was there, on, and playing classical music. Hell, he wasn't even sure what it was. Again he was confused, and it showed.

"It's her favorite station." she explained.

"I don't...understand." he admitted with marked shame on his tightened features.

"Lightning can still hear us." Serah elaborated, patting the baby's back. "Doctors often encourage family members to talk to coma patients...everyone's been taking turns sitting with her."

"I didn't know." he excused, as if he would've been there with them. He wouldn't have, he would have been far too scared. That, and he didn't feel like he would be wanted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." she shook her head. "I don't suppose you're used to this sort of thing."

"No." he'd never seen or heard of such an ailment as a...coma.

"It was tough for me too, the first time. I was a lot younger then...and I was so scared."

"First time?" this sort of thing could occur more than once in a life time? He shuddered at the thought.

"Yeah, an accident some..." she thought a moment, "...thirteen...fourteen years ago maybe. Our parents died, but she made it somehow. She was hurt pretty bad, but she survived." And Serah inwardly cringed, thinking back. Broken ribs, fractured pelvis, fractured femur in her right leg; that's what came from the car being t-boned by a speed-demon as it crossed an intersection. And that trauma had left Lightning in a coma as well, four weeks and two days.

She was just pushing the four week mark now.

"Everyone told me she could still hear me, so I would talk to her for hours. When she did wake up, she said she could remember hearing my voice. I guess they were right." she sighed, looking to her sister's still form, and then her eyes slid to settle on him. "Can I ask you something?"

Han's brows raised near his hairline, clearly curious. What on earth could she need to know that he could tell her?

"Now, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I'm curious," she grinned at him slyly, and she could tell it unsettled him a little. "I've been hearing things, here and there...do you...is there something going on between you and Claire?"

His curious expression held. "Who?"

"Claire," she repeated as if he should know. "That's Lightning's real name...though she's rather particular about it."

"I'm afraid I wasn't privileged to that." he laughed quietly, weak sound. "But now I know."

"Maybe she won't remember me saying it. Still...is there?"

Han thought about it and thought about it, unable to look anywhere other than the floor. "I...won't say."

"Can I ask why?" Serah had one eyebrow lifted as she shifted, putting Lora against the other shoulder.

"Old superstition. To make a long story short, as long as I don't say it aloud what little luck I have will hold."

"Really? I've never heard of that...I guess that's the same as jinxing yourself."

"Yes, that's actually rather close. But, in any case," he shrugged, his eyes still on the floor. "I don't think the feelings are shared."

"I think you're wrong." there was that knowing smirk again as he glanced up at her. "You should ask Fang about it, but after they got back that night, Lightning just kind of...closed herself off."

"Odd." and it really was. Why would she go an act like that? The mission was accomplished, what reason would she have to be anything put pleased?

"She's a bit complicated."

"A bit?" clearly he thought that a severe understatement. "Seems like nothing pleases that woman."

"That's not true." Serah sounded defensive now. "She just doesn't let it show very often...kind of like you."

Han had to wonder what else she had heard, if she could nail him like that. It had to be much more than she was letting on. Or was he simply that obvious?

"A lot of us have noticed that the two of you aren't so different. It's kind of funny, actually."

Though he failed to see any humor in it at all. He begged an explanation.

"It's just an inside joke," she laughed. "But Lightning said if she was ever going to be with someone, the Guardian Corps would have to issue them to her."

Han made a face, still unable to decipher a punchline of some kind. "That sounds ridiculous."

"That's why it's a joke, do you ever laugh?"

"Occasionally. I suppose...Cocoon humor escapes me."

"I can tell."

Han nodded. "So...say all of these things you've heard...are true. What do you think of it?"

"Well, even though I don't know you as well as some of the others," she paused, thinking, "I don't think it would be so bad. Lightning won't say it out loud, but she gets lonely. It would be good for her to have someone like you around. I mean...I think the two of us have grown apart these last few years...we're not so close anymore. And I worry about her."

_Someone like me...if only she knew. All I'm good for is pulling people down with me._ And deep down inside, he was fairly certain he was responsible for what happened. Somehow the gods had reached out and spread his curse to Lightning. _They_ tore her down, but it was all because of _him_.

"I wouldn't make you worry any less." he shook his head. "Probably do just the opposite."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Lora started to squirm in Serah's arms, grunting and flailing her arms. Clearly the child was fed up with something, maybe all this grown up talk. Personally, I agree with the kid, all this crap about relationships is enough to make _my_ ass tired.

Serah stood up, the chair screeching a little on the tile as she straightened. All she said is that she would be back and then was gone, leaving him alone. Well, not really alone. But, without Serah's seemingly calming presence, he felt as though he was. The sensation was heavy on his shoulders, prickling, akin to a bed of nails. It was that strange, nerve wracking sensation of being the only one at a wake.

_Just sit there, you sorry excuse of a man._ A little voice berated him after several minutes of doing just that. _Just sit there with your thumb up your backside like a fool._

Han swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes settling on the floor again. His body shook when he tried to lift himself to his feet, a shaking in his legs that kept him from straightening entirely. His backside settled back into the chair, weakness winning out against the tiny whispers of resolve in his head. He tried twice more and got the same result.

She doesn't want to hear anything I have to say, he thought bitterly and felt his chest tighten.

_What do you have to lose? She won't remember...most likely. She wouldn't care enough to remember._

There was that, and the idea of his nearly assured anonymity gave him a mote of courage. He was able to get up now, but his legs seemed to weigh ten times more than he thought they should. His feet dragged beneath him as he forced himself to move. And the weight on his shoulders surged as he, at last, came to stand beside the bed.

"I'm sorry." the words fell out of his mouth without his meaning them to. "All of this is my fault."

There was so much he was to blame for, and each and every case against him swelled into his core as he looked at her. Though his capital offense, the one that was sharpest in his mind, was the simple transgression of giving his feelings free reign. He tried not to, Han attempted to convince himself, but it hadn't been adequate. Han had done his best to shove it down, but it just..._happened_. And it spread his jinx to someone else.

"I did my best...but that wasn't enough. I guess I let you down. Just like you knew I would."

Han felt a little sick, his stomach in a hell of a knot. Lightning looked so...he couldn't describe it. He just couldn't materialize the words in his head. There were no traces of the peerless warrior he'd come to know. Her visage once stern with determination had become softened with sleep, all of her physical strength snuffed out by injury, battered and still very bruised. Now she was just a human being, mortality having caught up with her prematurely. True, she still lived, but what kind of life was it?

"Perhaps," he swallowed again, "I hope you can forgive me. And...I want to thank you for trying to save me. I would tell you in person but, well," an empty laugh tried to work its way out, but failed. And to think his sarcasm was once so strong.

There were no more words, none that he could find. Who would imagine that talking to an unconscious person would be so difficult? Why did this hurt so much?

_Lightning won't remember. If she ever wakes at all_. The little voice reminded him, but it was of little help.

Then again, there were others. Others he couldn't see but knew were watching, were always listening.

"Please," Han shook his head, despair gripping him. "Whatever it takes...just let her be well again."

Han was convinced the gods would hang on his every word. He could almost feel their presence, like a boulder dangling over his head, something he always sensed when he was vulnerable like this. Although it was perhaps the first time in his life he was genuinely hoping they were listening.

"I'll give anything, though I have very little left. If you must...then just take me instead. I don't care. Lightning has a family who needs her, don't make them suffer on my account." and he knew well what he was asking for, aware of the sort of consequences he faced, but it was of little difference. Deep in his heart he knew that if he lost her, he would lose it all. Life wouldn't be worth the while any longer with that guilt on his head. It would be too much to bear.

But still Han refused to say aloud the words that hung on his heart, in spite of his desperation. He wouldn't let them go. Everything would be turned on its head if he did.

_Just walk away from it, hide your head in the sand until it goes away. You're good at that._

Yes, maybe it would be best if he went on his way. He served no purpose lingering here. "Mayhaps I'll be back," Han said, his tone softened and almost too quiet, as he wasn't entirely sure he would be. He would have to find the courage again.

Han tried to turn away, retreat to the door, but found himself unable. He continued to dwell, perhaps indecisive. But what was there to be troubled about? He was doing nothing staying here, whereas he could leave and be doing something ultimately more constructive.

That little voice was at him again, but it was different. It was smaller, quiet, timid, but just as persuasive as the other. It was saying all the things he couldn't, twinkling echoes in his mind that tore away at him. It knew the truth, it knew what was on his heart, and it didn't fear the gods as he did. Perhaps that's why he couldn't ignore it. In it was all the strength he could never seem to find, and it forced his hand.

Though he was aware of her frailty, that voice in Han's head demanded something, some token of consolation that he would have to take since he couldn't ask. At first he could only let his massive hand rest over hers, mindful of the IV. Then, slowly, his fingers curled to hold it. That voice still would not relent, questing for more. His grip eased, and the bend of his thick knuckles caressed her marred cheek, the fingertips grazing tresses of her hair. Still the voice made petitions of him, his mind rattled with the intensity of them.

_Please, just something, a little something good. She'll never know._

And that was an argument he couldn't meet, much less fight. Morality be damned.

It was just a small kiss, brief and riddled with tightened nerves and guilt. It wasn't even on the lips, just beside the edge of her mouth where a coin sized bruise resided. Yet, by some chance, he felt a little...better.

Han straightened, chancing one last lingering touch of her hair before he was able to start away, and he felt lucky to find himself still alone. But he also felt like a bit of a thief for what he had just done.

Still, it was his little secret. And it would stay that way.

Outside he could feel the weight on his shoulders lifting, a deep breath easing that pinprick sensation that had been all over him. Though the ease didn't last. As if on cue, something happened. Like someone ever-so discreetly raping a dinosaur in one orifice or another with a sandpaper warhead, some sort of bellow resounded through the valley. The entire steppe seemed to fall in a hush, and then it shook. And I don't mean that as a metaphor. It literally shook, the earth trembling and groaning as something, with little cause for doubt, came tumbling down.

At first Han didn't know what to think about it, never having heard such a sound that he could recall. But then panic surged as he looked around, seeing nothing that could've possibly caused such a disturbance. Where were Fang and Lyra, had they returned yet? What if all that commotion was...

All he could think to do was run, though he hadn't the slightest clue where he was going.

_(-)_

An Adamantortoise.

Fang stood some ways away, hands on her hips as she looked at the felled giant that lay before her. There was a gaping gash split open just behind the bend of its jaw, and cool, dark red blood was dripping to the ground.

Fang had tried her damnedest to dissuade the youth from going after the massive reptile, but Lyra didn't seem too keen to listen. She'd never seen anything like it before and her first thought was to see how hard it would be to kill. But that was a shared curiosity for a lot of native Pulsians, so she could find no genuine fault in the girl.

What is it, and what does it taste like? Pulsian motto.

And proud of it.

"Your dad's gonna have my ass." she said to herself, shaking her head with a shrug. But she was smiling. Fang watched as Lyra emerged from the shadow of her kill, standing upon its great anklebone, a long dagger in each hand, with one raised in triumph. She was covered in blood from head to toe. "But it'll be worth it to see his face once he gets a look at you."

Lyra had run up to the beast, daggers drawn, and climbed up the Adamantortoise's leg and somehow managed to its neck. There she jumped, stabbing it, her weight pulling her down to slit its throat. And then it fell. In her amazement, Fang found herself only able to watch. Though she was sure to stay nearby for safety's sake. It was almost like a train wreck in slow motion, but then it was almost like porn. Hunters are funny that way; they see an example of prowess and ability like that and it just makes them foam at the mouth. I'm the same way with kickboxing. Hot stuff.

"The tribe will be very pleased," Lyra said proudly, jumping down. She was smiling from ear to ear, never mind the blood on her face. "We'll eat well for some time with this."

"Let's just hope big brother will be as happy about it as you are." there was a hint of caution hidden in Fang's tone. She could almost feel the impending lecture they were bound to get once Han found out. Then, on a completely unrelated note to the previous, "The hide will make for some nice clothes."

"And what we cannot use will go to the other beasts. Nothing goes to waste." Lyra nodded, her fists on the curves of her hips after she sheathed her daggers. "You sound as though father might be angry about this. Why?"

"Well, not really what you've done, just that _you_ did it. I'm sure he's grown a few gray hairs with worry...and that's just from the shakin' that big thing caused."

And Han thought he had too, the moment he topped the hill and saw the tortoise on its belly. His stomach bottomed out into his feet and he nearly tripped as he took the downward slope of the hill at break-neck speed. He didn't slow down even as he drew close to them, his arm out as he called his daughter's name, stricken.

"By the gods," he gasped, "are you all right?" The look of blood on her terrified him, convinced him of the worst. "What on earth were you _doing_?" Han took her against him, his hold vice-like around her.

"I tried to talk her out of it." Fang said, covertly grinning at his rare show of emotion at such a high degree. "But she insisted."

Han's head twisted in Fang's direction, his eyes set fierce. "You didn't try to stop her? She could've gotten hurt, or _worse_!"

"Now calm down, Han, she's a big girl. She can make her own decisions."

"I expected you to keep an eye on her!"

"And I _did_. She's _fine_, don't get ya sari in a bunch, yeah?"

"Father, please stop," Lyra put her hands on his chest and pushed herself back a step, his hand still on her. "I'm all right. It wasn't her fault, she gave me fair warning and I did it anyway. Don't be angry with her."

Han was still trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving. The fury had left his face, left him with the fear that had gripped him since the ground shook some moments ago. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. He was just so scared.

"I thought...I was afraid I'd lost you," he confessed with noticeable effort. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to get so cross."

"Apology accepted," Fang sniffed, not caring if it was directed at her or not. Though it was, even if Han wasn't looking at her when he said it.

"I should have had more trust in you."

"I know. Now tell that kid of yours how proud you are," Fang pointed, one eyebrow lifted alongside a small smirk. "She toppled the nasty all by herself."

At first he couldn't say anything, the words wouldn't come as he simply couldn't find them. He could see that she was waiting for his approval, could see the searching in her eyes. What _could_ he say? He was terrified, relieved, angry...so many things at once. His insides were a twisted mess, and the whispering idea that Lyra did this simply to please him was heartbreaking.

"I...I can't...for gods' sakes, girl, don't scare your old man like that." he pulled her against him once again. "I'm very proud of you, but I think you took a few years off me." and he forced himself to laugh, to diffuse the sincerity in his confession.

"I'll go after something smaller next time." Lyra chuckled against his chest.

And Fang bit her lip against a giggle-fit when she saw the color leave his face. Clearly he didn't want there to be a next time.

By week's end, with all the pomp and circumstance deserving such a fine hunter, Lyra was branded with a tattoo to commemorate her achievement. Han cried like a baby, so pleased.

(-)

The moment was brief, only a few seconds of uneasy disorientation. Her eyelids parted, fluttering in the mild struggle to stay open. The lights overhead were blurred, waxing and waning like dying stars. There was the faint chiming of music just audible through a dull pressure in her ears. She felt her fingers curl, searching for something, but then nothing. Lightning drifted back into the heavy darkness that the sudden trembling of the earth had pulled her from.

Author's Note: This was a real struggle to write, I guess it's difficult for me to gain any momentum when there isn't much pertaining to the plot going on. And there still is, I just have to get back to it, which I will next chapter. I just wanted some time to explore Lyra and her relationship with Han, as new as it is. Plus I'm trying to build on potential so-and-so's with Lightning and Han as well.

I've done some reading on comas to kind of get a genuine feel of what patients and their families go through; found out that, contrary to the movies, coma patients don't just wake up. It comes in stages, with periods of consciousness only lasting a few seconds to begin with and steadily getting longer. I'd like to think I'm coming pretty close to an accurate portrayal of the situation. Anyway, see you next chapter!


	42. Chapter XLI

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Forty-One**

Another fourteen days.

That makes it about two months since the party's return to the steppe from Arash, and over a month since the vampire raid.

Spring was nearly at its end, the steppe now teeming with mating pairs and those still fighting for mates and territory. The Megistotherians and Uridimmu were the prime suspects of these activities, packs of them going wildly about the steppe, tearing madly into one another...and fighting. Behemoths didn't really have this problem, as their system was fairly simple. Females picked the males, and the biggest one always wins. End of story. And I'm not even going to suggest we take a look at what the Gui do. That's asking for trouble.

In any case, life carries on.

"Where do you suppose we are now, love?"

"A long ways off the map, I'd wager."

"Here, let me see,"

Beth snatched the rolled stretch of parchment from her husband's hand, pressing it against his back as she looked it over. All the while the mule carrying them and their few belongings plodded along.

"I think you could be right." she said after several minutes, one thin brow raised in mild confusion. No part of the landscape around them bore any resemblance to the finely arranged scribbles and scrawls on the map. The last time it had was yesterday, as they came across the last sprawls of grasslands called the Switchback. Come the morning they had started up a steep mountain trail and thus went outside the map's direction. "You've gone and gotten lost."

"I most certainly have not," Donovan protested. "Just because it isn't on the map doesn't mean we're lost. Besides, there's always a chance we'll happen on someone who can give us directions."

"Though, saints know it, we haven't happened upon a soul this entire trip?"

"That's beside the point, m'dear."

"The hell it is," she laughed.

Donovan chuckled as well, squeezing his thighs so the mule might go a wee faster. "In any case, maybe the top of the mountain will be enough to get our bearings from."

The pair were surprised to find the dilapidated remnants of what looked to have once been a village once they reached the pass between the peaks. Though they only pondered what might have been there before for a short moment. They allowed their attention to dwell longer on the breathtaking view. The Hinterlands had been mostly rolling hills with a ravine or two on its borders aside from Devil's Den; this was unlike anything the recently freed slaves had ever seen.

The pair dismounted the mule, straying just far enough from it to have a look around.

"It's nice up here, love." Beth said in passing.

"Oh yes," he agreed. "Bet it was quite the place some time ago." Donovan had gone further along, down the fractured stone thoroughfare and lingering towards its edge to look down. With brows hiked high he leaned over the edge, feeling himself shrink a little to see such a sheer drop. He swallowed, never having realized before that he was somewhat acrophobic. He took a half step back, looking out now instead of down. "Look there, Beth," and he pointed once he had her attention.

Beth came to stand beside him, lifting to the balls of her feet in order to see what he could see being so much taller. "The valley?"

"Yes. Mayhaps there's people there,"

"There's always a chance. How would we get there? I don't see any roads out..."

"No...I think there's a trail leading down...yes, there. Although it looks too steep for the mule."

"Well it's not carrying so much that we couldn't do it ourselves," she countered. "And we could always blindfold it and lead it down."

"There's that. But maybe there's a safer way around...maybe further south," Donovan tapped his chin with one finger, thinking.

"How about we have ourselves a rest," she put her hand on his chest after a moment of watching him stew. "Then we can see what lies up the trail a ways. If we can't find a better route, then we'll take our chances with the slopes."

"But what if we happen upon some hostile critters? I can't say either of us are armed." Donovan raised one brow to his wife.

"The master let me keep my frying pan. And if that isn't enough protection then I dare say we deserve to get eaten."

Donovan laughed.

Their repose lasted longer than they originally intended, and since it was already late in the afternoon they chose to wait until morning, starting before sunrise. The two went further on to the south, finding the tumbled crown of Taejin's Tower lying there in the crystal dust. With little debate they decided to turn back, not entirely sure if the structure was entirely deserted as there were strange noises, animal like sounds, echoing through the cold, stone bones of the once mighty monument.

As planned they tied a stretch of cloth over the mule's eyes, forcing it to follow them as Donovan led them down the top of the slope. Beth kept a firm grip on the animal's tail so it wouldn't slide over her husband who kept his back against its chest. Slowly but surely they made their way down, reaching the roots of the pass with little trouble.

"Well, that was fun," Donovan took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "You all right, darling?"

"Just fine, deary, though don't feel guilty when I say I wouldn't want to do that again."

"I wouldn't ask you to." he most certainly would not, especially if doing so would worsen the already horrid pain in his knees.

Beth came to stand beside him, the reins in one hand. "You still suppose there's people down here?"

"Well...I don't think we stand to lose anything just by looking. And this place is quite nice...I believe we'll stay a while anyhow."

"Never thought you the one to like traveling," she shook her head, pulling the blind from over the mule's eyes and pulling herself up to sit on its back.

"Me neither." he chuckled, marveling. Both of them had learned many things previously unknown about themselves over the last few weeks. Now that they had the freedom to consider it.

The pair meandered over the steppe for a long while, perhaps an hour or two, without spotting a living soul save for a few of the wild sheep and some of the smaller monsters that scurried away from them. And how could they have missed the Gui?

The first human beings they came across were the couple hundred that made up the Kushtan camp. But they were hesitant to approach them at first, curious of the possibility that they would be able to communicate at all. Neither of them could speak even a hint of any of the Pulsian dialects, and it left them feeling somewhat lost. Still, it wasn't like they had much other choice. They took a chance and continued on, unsure of what the outcome would be.

The Kushtans regarded them with silent wariness, looking at them contemplatively but saying not a word as they drew closer. Even as a pair of armed riders were sent out to meet them, bring them into the boundaries of the camp, there wasn't even a whisper in regards to them. Not until they were brought before the chieftain and her daughter were they even addressed.

With guarded suspicion the chief asked where they were from, how they came to be in Archylte and for what purpose. Donovan explained to the best of his ability, hoping the natives would find truth in his answer. He had no reason to lie, nothing to hide.

"My wife and I are to deliver a message from my former master. Are there others living here in the valley?" he asked with as humble a tone as he could muster. Which was quite modest indeed, if you can believe it.

"There are some." Hana had nodded. "Who is to receive this message?"

"She is a young girl, nigh on a woman, about yea tall with bright red hair."

"I don't know anyone by that description."

"I do." her daughter spoke up. "Sounds like one of father's friends. I can take them."

Personally, Hana wanted the strangers gone as soon as possible. "Very well."

And it wasn't much longer after that was said they were on the move again, following the chieftain's daughter to the settlement that lay near the heart of the steppe. The colony came into view and Donovan found himself very curious.

"What sort of people you suppose live in houses like that, love?"

Beth was trying her damnedest to catch a glimpse from around her husband's much larger frame. "I don't know for sure, darling, but at this rate I just hope they're friendly folk."

Bard was the first to see them coming, by simple chance as he grazed some distance away. With cheeks full of grass and small roots he straightened, his brows see-sawing over his eyes in curiosity as he cocked his head. He recognized Lyra straight away, but not the two that followed. Without much hurry he turned and started walking back towards the settlement. Not that it was an emergency or such a to-do as that, but someone was bound to want to know. Perhaps Teh'Han was about, and surely he'd want to be aware if his daughter was coming by. Briefly the satyr recollected the look of absolute joy he had seen Han display the other day. It shocked him, as he would've sworn the old fellow's face should've cracked at the hinges for smiling like that.

Snow was the first person he saw and thought to ask. Snow hadn't seen Han anywhere that day, he confessed as he shook his head. Then he suggested to the satyr to find Fang, maybe she would know. Although neither of them had a clue as to her whereabouts either, so the point was bordering on moot. Still Bard thanked him for the assistance and moved on.

She's bound to be about here somewhere, he mused to himself, his head turning from side to side as his eyes eased over the area around him. Fang had been prone to wander about rather often these last few weeks, and she always seemed so bothered. Like someone with a bad feeling hanging on them. And though she never strayed very far, the look on her face belied the distance of her seemingly numerous thoughts. Mayhaps it was that Vanille still was not over this flu she appeared to have caught?

You would think it by the way her brow creased, how Fang absently chewed on her bottom lip.

_Why isn't she getting any better...it's been a month...did those toothy bastards infect her with something?_

Her wild blue eyes thinned as she looked out across the steppe, her arms crossed. She could just hear the satyr's hooves in the grass drawing closer up behind her.

"So this is where you're lingerin' today," he sighed as he stood beside her. "What's got ya so troubled, Miss Fang? Ya know ya can talk teh me."

"Nothin' big, just thinkin'."

"I believe you're tellin' me a tale." his eyes slid to settle on her. "And it innae a very good one."

Fang looked at him, her gaze a form of warning against his reading too much into it. And she didn't care too much for the way he was smirking a little. Then she sniffed, tipping up her chin a bit. "Believe what you want."

"I usually do. So who do you supposin' Lyra's bringin' with her?"

"Dunno, haven't seen them before, but I'm willing to put money on that they're not from around here."

"Oh aye, that I would too were I of the bettin' persuasion."

Fang chanced to look his way once more, finding herself doing a double take. "Hey,"

"What's that?"

Her expression twisted in a peculiar way. "Were you this tall yesterday?"

"Beg ya pardon? Of course I was."

"No, no," she shook her head a little, "I could've sworn you were shorter than this." Her memory was demanding that he was only so tall, the top of his head level with her shoulder when they first met. Now he could've easily been able to put his chin atop her shoulder with no real effort.

"Mayhaps you're just seein' things, Miss Fang? Rest assured I dinnae sprout a few extra inches overnight. True, I'm not done growin' quite yet, but not so suddenly did that change."

Her brow furrowed deeper. "How old are ya again?"

Bard smiled, his bucked teeth visible for a brief instant. "I'm on the wee side of eighty, so I still have some green on me."

"'Scuse me? Eighty?"

"I dinnae ken you knew that? We satyrs tend to live for quite some time, a long while by your hume standards. I think my great-great-granda was about two-hundred-twenty-two by the time he passed on. I'm still a youngin' in some ways."

Fang found no words, and only gaped at him silently. After a moment, though, it passed, and she smirked in that usual, feline sort of way.

"Well, I gotta say you look pretty damn good for eighty-somethin'."

"Thank ya kindly." Bard nodded. "Though if I _have_ grown any, I haven't noticed." However his tone of voice was a little off, as if the statement weren't entirely true. "So what do you say we go and meet these new folks, decide if they be friend or foe for ourselves?"

"Couldn't hurt."

And together they walked on, down the slope of a small earthen rise and onto level ground. The two small groups met somewhere in between, pausing in order to greet each other. Otherwise, there was little time wasted on formalities.

"Who're your new friends?" Fang lifted an eyebrow to the saddled couple.

"Ma'am, if I may; my name is Donovan," the man took of his hat, pressing it to his chest as he answered before Lyra could speak. "This is my wife Beth. We've just recently arrived here from Arash, and we were hoping to find some help. You see, we're looking for someone,"

"Who?"

"His description sounded very much like Vanille." Lyra replied for him.

"Yes, that's her!" Donovan's expression brightened. "I was her doctor, you see."

"That so?" that was something she hadn't expected to hear, but it did little more than spark a mild suspicion. "Well, with that being said, I can't help but wonder what you want."

"I-uh, well," his hands fidgeted about the brim of his hat, her tone somewhat intimidating. Or maybe it was how her eyes seemed to piece him that was so startling. "We served in the same house and-and my master asked me to deliver a message to her after our release."

"That's all?" it was clear Fang was very wary, all of them knew it.

"I assure you we mean no harm, quite the opposite. Beth and I would like very much to see her."

Fang gently bit on the edge of her lip, still unsure. What if this was just some elaborate vamp trick? Could this whole "sweet couple" thing just be a ruse on the chance they could steal Vanille away and back to that hell hole?

Although suspicions weren't a very strong reason to tell someone to "fuck off", so there wasn't much to getting rid of them. She would just keep a very close eye on them, Fang told herself as she nodded quietly.

"All right," she said finally. "Come along then, but I don't know how much you'll see of her. She's sick."

"Oh, so she's _here_? I remember her mentioning her home being south of the city,"

"Well, yes and no. Chances are if you've come all the way here, you've passed it somewhere along the way. What's left of it at least."

"In any case, the help is much appreciated." Donovan returned the hat atop his head and pushed the mule to moving again. "How do you know Vanille, if I might ask?"

"I'm her sister."

"Indeed? Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. But you say she's ill? Maybe I can help then,"

"Maybe."

"They seem nice enough." Bard whispered as he walked beside the Oerban. "Still somethin' botherin' ya?"

"Aye." the reply was more of a grumble than an actual word. "I don't know these people from Adam."

"There's that. You supposin' they're lyin'?"

"I don't know. That's what's buggin' me." and her brow hung low over her eyes, advertising her dismay.

But Bard knew there were other things on her mind, not just that. And he was all too aware of her overprotective nature, especially when Vanille was involved. This woman could be so paranoid. Though he had to admit, in her defense, that she was rarely in such a manner without reason.

You could easily imagine Hope's surprise to see Fang, Bard, and Lyra, along with two complete strangers standing outside his dwelling when he answered the knock at the door. His green eyes widened and he exchanged a brief glance with each of them.

"Is there...something going on that I should know about?" he asked cautiously.

"Nothing to fuss over, just a friendly home invasion." Fang reached out her hand and mussed his hair playfully, smirking. "Care if we come in?"

"Invaders don't usually ask permission, but sure." and he stepped away from the opening to allow everyone inside. With the exception of the mule, of course.

Vanille stirred out of an uneasy sleep at the sounds, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. "Fang?" she coughed, her fist over her mouth. She could've sworn she heard her sister's voice. "Is everything all..." she paused and blinked, her bright green eyes suddenly lighting up. "Donovan!"

Somehow she managed off of the cot with the blanket still about her shoulders, forcing herself to stand and put her arms around him. "And Beth! How did you get here?"

He embraced her tightly but briefly. "We've only just arrived, but don't exert yourself, now. Sit."

Fang watched quietly from across the room, leaning her hip gently against the table as Donovan helped Vanille back to bed, sitting on the edge beside her with his wife. Part of her was at ease, seeing how happy Vanille was to see them, how considerate they appeared to be. Although the rest of her had yet to be convinced of anything. Bard was watching both of the Oerbans, curious most of all what the eldest one was thinking.

And as Vanille continued to interact with Beth and Donovan, Bard had to wonder something he should've thought rather ridiculous; was she just paranoid...or was Fang jealous? Perhaps the idea that her younger sister's security was no longer hers exclusively was threatening. Bard could see a slight tightening around Fang's eyes, the tensing of the muscles on the edge of her mouth. Could it be?

He would have to wait and see.

"Lord Hassan released us some two weeks ago." Beth explained. "It would've been sooner, but with all the commotion at the manor during the festival, and then his brother's funeral..."

"It was a bit wild for a time." Donovan nodded in agreement. "Still, the master kept his word and let us go. But he gave me one last thing to do." he fished down into the collar of his shirt, searching for something as Vanille watched him curiously. "He wanted me to deliver this to you."

A low fog of tension settled through the entire space, everyone's eyes settling on the envelope in his hand. Hope cleared his throat, and Bard scratched the back of his head. Fang was completely still, had barely even blinked.

Vanille's expression dimmed, her brow sinking. She only considered it a moment, taking the edge of paper between two fingers and pulling it from his hand. "I'll read it later." and she set it aside.

That was awkward. Though could you blame her?

"So your sister tells me you've been under the weather. What's the matter, deary?"

"It's just the flu." she sniffled.

"For nearly a month," Bard slipped.

"That long?" Donovan's brow hiked towards his hairline. "Doesn't sound like any flu I've ever heard of, let me see."

Like he had some times before, Donovan checked her pulse and temperature just using his hands. Sure, she was showing the typical symptoms, but something felt odd.

"It isn't feeding fever," he ruled out immediately. "That can linger sometimes."

"What's feeding fever?" Fang finally opened her mouth.

"Well, prolonged feeding can weaken the constitution. One can be more prone to illness and it's hard to get rid of. Still, that's not what this is, and it's been going on for about a month?"

"Roughly."

Donovan nodded again, looking to Vanille. "What's your appetite like?"

"Not very good. I just don't...feel hungry." she admitted, seemingly with a mote of embarrassment.

He then looked back at Fang. "Does this village not have a doctor?"

"We do, but she's had the flu before so we didn't think it was necessary." her brow creased in the middle, maybe thinking his tone accusatory.

"Mayhaps it's best we do that then, don't you think?"

Bard reached out his hand to cup Fang's shoulder, having seen the moment she tensed as if to advance on him.

"Easy there, missy." he whispered. "He's just tryin' to help."

Her gaze cut towards him, stabbing as if daring him to say something more. Give her an excuse to deck him. Though he said nothing and she just continued to glare at the back of his head as the lot of them filed out of the dwelling.

Lyra fetched the colony doctor and they all met up at the infirmary. Though Lyra didn't stay but a moment before leaving to look for her father. He was not here, so she thought that perhaps he would be home. Her absence was filled by Raul, who had merely poked his head in out of curiosity. He certainly didn't expect to see Donovan there, who he had known for quite some time.

"So what's going on?" the vampire asked quietly, watching alongside the others as the colony doctor gave Vanille the typical once over. "She still sick?"

"That's what they've told me." Donovan nodded, his arms crossed. "Though I can't think of what it could be."

"Feeding fever?"

"No, it's been too long since," he shook his head, then eased it to one side. "Unless you've been..."

"Saint's no, her sister would kill me. Slowly." he defended immediately. "I'd sooner go hungry."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," he nodded again, "especially if what I've heard is true. Did these people really kill Nighthawks?" and the volume of his voice dropped lower than most could hear.

"Oh yes. Many."

Donovan only took a deep, slow exhaling breath. He had gone his entire life believing the Nighthawks invincible, and here he was in a room with those who had actually managed to destroy them. There was a degree of pressure that came with the idea.

"Well," the colony doctor said after a long moment of poking and prodding. "All things considered, the only other thing I can think to do is some blood work. That'll tell us what's wrong."

"So it isn't just the flu?" Hope asked him.

"It seems like that's all it is, but the fact that its been hanging around this long may just be part of a bigger problem. There's a chance that her immune system is being suppressed somehow."

Vanille and Fang looked at each other, not entirely sure what that really meant.

"Cry your pardon, sir, but Raul could tell us if this ailment is blood related."

"Oh no he won't," Fang snapped at Beth. "Not a chance in hell."

"Fang, please," Vanille pleaded, but appeared unheard.

"You're bein' unreasonable," Bard added his two cents, and was also ignored.

"Not after all that," Fang shook her head insistently. "I'll be damned if I let another blood-sucker near her."

"Even if it's for her health?" Donovan countered.

"The doctor already said he could do it, we don't need a vampire!"

"But," the doctor interjected, standing up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, "the results could take anywhere from two weeks to two months to come through. In that time she could get worse, and if we don't know the cause, then there's nothing that can be done to help."

Fang's face scrunched, she was pissed. She felt cornered and she most certainly didn't like it. There was no arguing her way out of this. They were right, but she didn't want to admit it.

"Come on, Fang," Hope encouraged gently, realizing he had the opportunity now that things had gone so suddenly quiet. "We can trust Raul."

Her fingers pointed into her arm, the muscles in her jaw like a vice. "All right, fine." Fang relented. "Are you okay with this?"

Finally, Vanille thought. She had been feeling invisible during everyone else's little spat. She nodded. "The sooner we know what it is, the sooner I'll get better." but she sounded less than excited about it. Her reply was like a defeated sigh.

Vanille watched as the colony doctor stepped away and Raul took his place, settling on the mattress in front of her. She presented her wrist to him, expecting him to bite it but surprised when he only took it carefully with both hands.

"I only need a little." he assured her, taking the slender talon on his pinky and pressing the tip of it into her skin. With but a small bit of force it drew blood, and he gathered a few drops into the hollow bend on the underside of his claw. Vanille barely winced, her brow creasing in the middle for a split second as the skin broke. Fang scowled hard as she watched, furious.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as Raul raised the bloodied claw to his mouth, smearing a crimson stripe across his tongue. He shut his eyes, taking a slow breath. Part of him couldn't help but enjoy the taste, the copper bitterness that made him salivate. But through that he could taste the illness, the dull spoilage that it left in her blood. And yet there was something else still, something he didn't well recognize.

"Hmm,"

"What is it?" Vanille's question squeaked, anxiety prevalent in her voice as she pressed her thumb to the pinprick.

"Something...I'm sorry, could I have just one more taste-,"

"You've had enough," Fang growled.

"_Just to be sure_," he finished with emphasis, his head turned to look over his shoulder at the overbearing woman. He could understand how she was feeling, but she was being ridiculous.

Vanille gave him allowance to do what was necessary, and he did so with little delay. Like before he shut his eyes as the blood settled over his tongue, his mind wandering back to find the familiarity in that so-odd flavor. Taste was a vampire's strongest sense memory, and he knew it from somewhere, some when.

Then it hit him.

"She's pregnant."

"_What_?" was the resounding response from everyone present.

"You're sure?" Fang demanded.

"Positive."

Hope flinched when all eyes suddenly fell on him. Well, could you really blame them? He had been the one spending the most time alone with her.

"I haven't laid a hand on her, I swear!" he protested, his hands in the air in surrender. Though that statement wasn't one hundred percent true. It was true enough.

"Then..." Raul started, his eyes eased around the room, meeting the many stricken gazes of the others, eventually settling on Vanille.

"Oh my god," she breathed. She couldn't think, her mind fuzzy with terror and disbelief. This couldn't be, this can't be happening. Vanille looked up at Donovan, her gaze pleading, lost. "You said this couldn't happen."

The color left the man's face as all eyes shifted to him, his mouth ajar. "I...I-I...it _can't_! It never has! It's never been on record, not in a thousand years, and...and..._I would know_!"

"So you're saying," Fang was putting holes through Donovan's chest with her heavy glare. Though she almost couldn't finish the sentence, she could barely find the ability to breathe. "Some _vampire_ knocked up my sister?"

Donovan couldn't find the words, but his silence was enough of an answer. The air in the room became thick enough to kill somebody.

Fang's gaze held and she watched as the man before her shrank a little. She wanted to blame someone, she wanted someone to be mad at, and Donovan was looking like a prime candidate.

"Could we stop with the looming threats and give our attention to the more pressing issues?" Raul broke the anxiety with his agitated tone. "If things are...what they are, we need to -first of all- take care of Vanille to ensure her health. Then I think it would be best if we try and discover _how_ this came about. Clearly something is out of the ordinary here."

Perhaps feeding fever wasn't so far-fetched after all. Just think about it a minute.

Fang only lingered on Donovan for a brief moment more, her gaze narrowing before she stepped away. She didn't want to let it go, but now wasn't the time. "You're right. So what do we do?"

"Um, everyone, if I may make a suggestion," the doctor cleared his throat before speaking, garnering undivided attention. "Something you could consider is abortion. If it's going to be potentially life-threatening, I mean."

"Cry your pardon?" Donovan's brow slanted.

"He means he could stop the baby from being born." Hope's face was darkened with shadows. Clearly this idea didn't sit well with him.

Donovan's eyes widened considerably before he shouted, "It's outright _murder_!" And many of the others had similar reactions. The only one who didn't was Vanille as she appeared to be in a state of shock, clutching the blanket about her shoulders and shaking.

"It's a _choice_," the doctor still protested his case, "one that _she_ has every right to make." And the room went quiet again.

Vanille could feel the god awful weight of everyone looking at her, though her head was low enough for her chin to touch her chest and she couldn't see. She didn't have to see. Her insides were tied in knots and her heart was pounding so hard, it was threatening to tear its way out of her ribs. Good gods, how could all of this have happened? Why? She just wanted to crawl in a hole and hide.

A choice she had every right to make...what the hell kind of a choice was that supposed to be? Honestly? That's like having to think over between dying and dying slowly. Or would you rather be shot in the face or have your entrails ripped out your asshole.

But her choice wasn't even _that_ easy. Death was a simple thing, an instant of terror and perhaps pain, and then it was over. Death was fortune smiling. But she had to decide between...Jesus Christ, she had the life of an unborn child in her hands!

But she couldn't make that decision. Not now.

When she finally looked up, there was Donovan. She didn't even notice he was holding her hand. And Fang was standing behind him, arms crossed, her expression dark with uncertainty.

"We're here for you, deary." Donovan affirmed. "No matter what."

No matter what.

"I...I need some time to think." she said hesitantly and after a long while. "I want to be alone for a while."

"You're sure?" Fang's tone had softened substantially from before. "I could-,"

"_Please_."

Fang flinched, taking a half step back, looking surprised. Maybe even hurt. "All right...all right. If that's what you want. I'll just...yeah." and she left the room, almost too quickly.

"W-we'll be about, should ya be needin' anythin', aye?" and then he left as well.

Hope kissed her on the cheek before leaving.

And one by one they shuffled out until the only other person in there with her was Lightning, still comatose in the bed on the other side of the room.

For the better portion of half an hour she simply sat there, her thoughts alight with a million different things. And then she simply started crying, gathered about herself, sobbing into her knees. When would all of this ever end?

_(-)_

It was late, some short time after midnight, the steppe was quiet and still save for the chiming of crickets and the rummaging of something nocturnal. There was no glimmer of moonlight, only stars and fireflies.

Teh'Han had the smug notion that he was so damn slick to be able to sneak into the center at this hour without waking the clerk. He slipped through the front entrance, crept barefoot down the short corridor and passed the desk, and then went along his silent way as Eugene was fast asleep beneath his desk. And Raul was nowhere to be seen in spite of his night time nature and habit to linger around here.

Not once had Han been caught doing this, maybe that's what allowed his confidence in these little evening ventures to hold. No one knew. It was still his secret.

Every time he made the long walk from the pasture here he would recall the first night, when he woke from a dead sleep with his first notion being that of curiosity. Something tickled the back of his mind with a need to know if she was all right, if anything had changed it the time since he had seen her last. And he was very offset by how he seemed to only have this courage after the sun went down.

Maybe it was the thought of guaranteed solitude. No one would know he was ever there, no one would hear their one-way conversations. Nobody would know how his feelings had grown.

Quietly, carefully as he had many times before, Han pushed the infirmary door open, praying the hinges wouldn't creak. Once the space was large enough he stepped inside, leaning against the door until it clicked shut. There was just enough light in the room to see by, the dim halogen lights above the three beds always lit. He crossed the room just as silently as he entered reaching for a chair once he drew close enough to sit beside the only occupied bed.

"Sorry I'm late." he whispered the apology, as if she had been waiting for him. "I had to wait for Lyra to fall asleep."

His daughter had, more or less, invited herself to stay the night. He didn't even want _her_ to be suspicious of where he had slipped off to.

"I wish you two could meet," he shrugged with a hint of a smile, "I think you would get along well."

His visits were often like this, just him rambling on in the darkness and receiving no reply. He went on about the events of the day, not once thinking she might have heard about them already from someone else. Although one time Pickles had somehow gotten in, curled up between Lightning's feet, and had gurgled his displeasure at the noise. Han's only thought was that the pet should not be living and still smell that bad. Though he also pondered the possibility that a bath would surely kill it.

But the cat was not here tonight.

"Strange things have been going on lately," he lounged back in the chair as he spoke. "Strange people coming out of nowhere it seems. Thankfully it's nothing all too serious. At least not yet."

He chanced to look over, dwelling on the slow, systematic movements of her chest rising and falling.

"Well, maybe that's not entirely true." he shrugged, massaging the back of his neck roughly with his hand. "I suppose expecting a baby is rather serious, all things considered. Poor Vanille's beside herself...I don't think anyone really knows what to do. Then again, this sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen to begin with."

Han tried to imagine what Light's reaction would be in his head as he sat quietly. It wasn't as easy to do as you would think. Chances are, were she awake, they wouldn't even be having this conversation to begin with. He wouldn't be here, and if he was, she would surely be ignoring him.

"Carrying a vampire's child," he shook his head as he started again, "still don't know how, though the doctor is looking into it. He's been taking blood from everyone to study back on Cocoon. He thinks he can figure it out."

For a brief moment he thought back to that, how any of them that had been born on Gran Pulse had communed here at the center yesterday evening to give blood samples. The thing that stood out to him most in the memory was the doctor's reaction to taking Raul's blood. The doctor had gasped "it's cold" with complete wonder. Raul took it in stride, the showman in him rearing its head with a smirk and his reply of "ta-dah".

"Mayhaps in a few days more we'll know something." he breathed out slowly, his mind combing over the idea. He had to wonder what on Pulse could be so different about Vanille that she was the only one out of potential hundreds of thousands to conceive a vampire's offspring?

"I don't think the two of them have been getting along too well lately. Fang and Vanille I mean. They seem...distant I suppose, they don't appear to be talking much to each other. Or maybe I'm just seein' things. Though I could understand if things are a bit...strained with them."

There were so many things yet unsaid between the two, so many secret thoughts that neither were either willing or able to address. Though that was understandable if not expected. Yet the idea of them drifting apart was startling.

"I guess the only thing to do is wait and see, do what we can when we're able." and he shrugged once more, feeling a little defeated. "Hopefully it'll be enough."

And then Han was quiet, having run out of things to say. What difference did it make, really? So he leaned the chair back on its two back legs until it rested against the wall, and he eased back his head and closed his eyes. He listened passively to the heart monitor, the steady beep-beep almost soothing when it had been _so_ grating before. Sometimes the rhythm would change, slightly increase, and would garner his immediate attention. But then he would realize it was nothing, just Lightning taking a deep breath, a natural occurrence, involuntary. It would level out again after that. He got used to hearing it, though his heart would jump a little whenever it happened. A small spark of hope fizzling in him.

Han didn't remember dozing off, his arm across his lap and his chin resting on his chest. He woke the moment he became aware that he was dreaming, a hard start that had the chair smacking loudly onto its other two legs as he leaned forward. He didn't know what time it was, though he was suspicious that it might be nearly morning. The last thing he wanted was for someone to come in and catch him here. He stood up, stretching slowly with his hand over his head, something popping. Then he went about the ritual around his saying goodbye.

"I will try to be back again soon." Han whispered. He took her hand gently in his much bigger one, mindful of the IV, and kissed the knuckles.

With as much care as he grasped her hand he eased it back to its original place, his grip lingering but a second longer before he started to walk away. Although he could only take the first step before he was forced to stop.

Though his hand had loosened, Lightning's had suddenly curled. She held fast to his thick fingers. He turned at the waist, a sharp twist to look behind him. His gaze zeroed in on her hand, how it feebly gripped his, and then climbed. It was only after he found a shimmer of cerulean in the diminished light that he realized the heart monitor had gone wonky again.

Lightning was awake.

Author's Note: And thus the drama is renewed. Although rest assured there will be no freaky half-vamp baby a la Stephanie Meyer in this fanfic, oh no. And I would like to think my explanation for this happening will, at the very least, be believable. Heavens, a year later and here I am...hard to imagine it. Hopefully it has been fun for all of you readers as it has been for me as a writer. Though we still aren't finished. See you there!


	43. Chapter XLII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Forty-Two**

They told her it had been a month and a half. A month and a half of ceaseless dreaming and fleeting visions of awareness. And now, having been conscious for a solid three hours without dozing off, it was still a struggle for Lightning to stay awake. Although Serah remembered that was normal, and it would get easier once she'd settled into a more typical sleep cycle.

The head of the bed had been raised, allowing Lightning to sit up. There was a dull tingle in her skin from head to toe, a restlessness in her muscles. She wanted to get up and move around, get out of this damnable bed, but she knew she wasn't strong enough. Hell, there was a chance she could blink out on her feet. That would just be embarrassing, and she felt pitiful enough as it is.

Ever wake up from a full night's sleep still tired? It felt something like that.

"The last thing I remember was," Lightning said slowly as if testing, her voice breathy, "...shots fired...someone calling for me. I think it was Bradley."

Serah was there, hanging on her every word. Her expression was soft yet had twinges of fear. "Claire, Bradley didn't make it."

Somehow she knew, somehow there was a memory of someone giving her the news, but it was distant and vague. Lightning couldn't recall who said it, only that it was said. "A shame." was her reply. Lightning shifted stiffly to sit a little straighter, wincing as her muscles argued and at the pinching in her belly, then she pulled the blanket higher, covering her other shoulder. Otherwise the only thing covering her naked breasts were the bandages that kept her right arm secured to her side.

"Who's still here?"

"A lot of people went back to Cocoon after the raid." Serah sighed a little, her hands in her lap as she sat in the chair. "But I don't suppose that's what you meant, was it? Well," and she cited a short list of names Lightning couldn't put faces to, of those that had died. That is, until she said Francisco had been one of them.

"What happened to him?" Light managed to lift one brow. Just one.

"He was shot." was all she said, but her sister could sense there was more to it than just that, it was in the way Serah cast her eyes down. Though she didn't pry. She didn't have the energy.

"Still...I'm glad you're all right."

Serah nodded. She thought back to a few hours ago; it was the middle of the night when the wild pounding on her door woke her from a dead sleep. Snow's persistent inactivity made clear that he wasn't going to get it, so she was forced to crawl over him as they lay in bed to reach to door. At first she was stricken with a deep rooted terror at the sight of one of the nurses on call at the center, thinking the worst. But it hadn't been bad news. She said Lightning was awake and asking for her. Serah went in her pajamas and barefoot as fast as she could. Tears were streaming down her face by the time she got there. She almost fell against Lightning, holding her as tightly as she could, and Light returned the gesture with her good arm weakly curled about her sister's waist.

Lightning's first genuinely conscious thought, once she realized she was awake, was Serah. Was she all right? Where was she? Then other thoughts began to flood her mind, a dizzying array of what and how and why. What happened, how did I get here, why won't my arm move? At first it was so unsettling. It made her sick to her stomach and her blood pressure spiked, forcing the nurse to give her a sedative.

Even then it had only gotten slightly better. Lightning was still rather confused, finding the greatest difficulty in realizing when she had slipped off to sleep and when she woke again. They were tiny, minutes long spells, but she didn't know that. It was several minutes she couldn't remember. That would be unnerving for anyone.

It was still early now, a few hours lingering between now and dawn.

"The doctor should be in soon, they had to call him on Cocoon." Serah mentioned, apparently not liking how quiet things had gotten.

Lightning's head jerked forward slightly, as if she'd just been yanked awake. "Huh? What?" she blinked.

"It's nothing." Serah excused. "Not important."

"Oh." Light let her head fall back against the pillow. Then she turned to look at her sister once more. "Who was here with me?"

"Hm?"

"Someone was here when I woke up, but it was too dark for me to see," all she could recall was her own weak death grip on someone's hand, the calloused pads of thick fingers against her palm. And she remembered how desperate she was, having been fighting to hold on to that shred of awareness. It had been like that for weeks now, a few panicked minutes where she would move and mumble wordlessly only to go unheard as she was often alone when this occurred. Familiar voices would stir her out of the coma, her mind gripping the sounds like cherished memories. They brought her fractured consciousness together, allowed her to focus for a few precious moments, allowed her to remember...

_I am alive. Someone talk to me. Please. I'm here. Don't forget me._

"I...I don't know. I can't think of anyone who would've been awake at that hour," Serah thought that last bit aloud. "Maybe it was the nurse, or maybe security,"

"Hm." Lightning wasn't so sure, but she was rather certain it wasn't either of those. Then she gave a quiet groan.

"What's wrong, are you in pain?"

"No." she slowly shook her head. "Just...still so tired."

"You want me to go? Let you rest?"

She shook her head again. A small part of her was afraid to be alone, thinking if she dozed off again she would slip back into that suffocating darkness, that endless dreaming. "Please stay."

"Okay." and she reached forward to take her sister's hand. "I'll be here."

Lightning squeezed it tight, unyielding, as one would hold to their last life line. Drifting off to sleep didn't seem so terrifying now. Just a little longer, she told herself as she took a deep breath. Just a few more minutes...

When she woke again, the first thing that came into focus was the seemingly towering form of her brother-in-law as he sat on the edge of the mattress near her feet. She gawked at him silently a moment, one brow lifted that belied a sense of having not expected him to be there.

"Hey, sis," Snow said with a smile, his voice hushed.

Lightning groaned as she shifted. "Where's Serah?"

"She just stepped out for minute, she'll be back. You know, baby stuff."

She nodded. "How long was I asleep?"

"Just a couple of hours, it's still morning. You feeling okay?"

Honestly, Light felt like shit. But she also felt that to be expected. "Groggy...sore." though she withheld the "someone just shoot me" bit.

"I'd imagine so." he slid off the bed to his feet, stretching. "Hey, they doctor wanted me to let him know when you woke up, so I've gotta disappear for just a minute. You need anything?"

As a matter of fact, "Something to drink." When she swallowed all she could feel in her throat was a dry scratch.

"You got it." and off he went.

When he came back only minutes later, it was easily the happiest she had been to see him. Either him, or the bottle of water in his hand that already had the top screwed off. She snatched it with a quick "thanks" and guzzled half of it as fast as she was able. Sweet Christ that was so much better.

"Miss Farron, good to see you." the doctor greeted her once he knew she was paying attention.

Lightning only nodded, not entirely able to find the words to form a reply fast enough.

He started out with the usual questions; how are you feeling, any nausea or dizziness, do you know where you are, so on-so forth. Afterwards he went about checking her pulse and other vital signs, finding them somewhat piddly but not in a bad way. From there he had to fold down the blanket to have a look at the remnants of the incision on her stomach. Lightning sensed her own wonder at the size of the wound, the scar thick and on the bright red side of pink. Dots of small scabs lined the edges of it where the stitches had been. There was still bruising around the aged wound and it covered almost the entirety of her midsection. It was massive, the biggest one she'd ever had.

"Feeling any pain here?" the doctor pressed around the scar gently.

"No. Just tender."

"It will be for some time yet." he assured her, putting the blanket back in its place. "Now lift your chin for me."

She did as he asked, making the connection as to why he needed to look there just as he leaned forward to have a closer look.

The bandage around her throat had been removed some weeks ago, but there had been some slight necrosis around the actual punctures due to poor circulation. Too many blood vessels dissolved. There was still some significant bruising there, but it was showing signs of fading. And the worst of the necrosis only left behind tiny indentations in the skin. They would become hardly noticeable eventually.

"So far everything is looking good," he sighed after a thorough inspection. "Once you're up to it we'll get that arm x-rayed and see how much longer it needs to stay as it is."

Fabulous, she thought. The cast was itching like hell.

"Otherwise you're feeling all right?"

"Think so." she took another sip of water. "How soon can I get out of this bed?"

"I would wait another day." he said in a cautionary tone, almost fatherly. "Until then, just take it easy. Sleep when you feel the need to."

Which, as far as Light cared, was too often. Even now she could feel another quick nap creeping up on her.

"Don't worry doc, I'll keep her in line." Snow grinned.

"The hell you will." Light grumbled quietly, rolling her eyes. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Unfortunately, Miss Farron, you do, at least for today. You might as well get used to it." he said matter-of-factly. "Now, I need to get back, the geneticist should have the tests results by now."

"When do you think you'll be back Pulse side?" Snow asked.

"Either tonight or tomorrow, depends on when the ships run." and then he was gone.

Snow's gaze lingered on the door for a moment, then he turned back. "Well, at least the prognosis is good, right?"

"I guess."

"You don't sound too excited."

"I'm tired." she was fighting to keep her eyes open. "Shut up."

"But I," there was no use in finishing. She wasn't paying much attention to him now as her eyes had drifted closed and her head eased back against the pillow. With careful ease he leaned forward to pull the bottle from her hand as it still had some water in it and was threatening to spill in her lap.

"I'll keep and eye on you, sis, no worries." and he smiled, suddenly realizing how much he'd missed her verbal abuse.

_(-)_

Han listened carefully as he sat at the table, working strips of tanned Gui leather around the handle of his half-finished hatchet. He listened as Fang vocalized her worries, which seemed to number in the dozens. Even if they were but a handful, they weighed so heavily on her mind. From time to time he would look up from his work to see her pacing, often massaging her forehead with a grimace as she went on. Lyra did the same as she sat on the floor with Gurthang in her lap. Bard was there also, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, his amber eyes tracking Fang as she went back and forth.

"I wish I knew what to tell you," Han shook his head, talking though he held a bit of leather between his teeth. "I do."

"So do I!" Fang turned to start back the way she'd just come, only to turn about once more. "I just...I don't know what to do."

"Can ya not talk to her?" Bard wondered aloud.

Fang paused, hugging herself with her head bent. "It's like she's been avoiding me. I feel like I've done somethin' awful."

"Mayhaps it's only that she wants some time to herself...time to think." Han sighed.

"She doesn't seem to mind the company of that couple that waltzed in here the other day," Fang argued, her expression like that of one who had been swindled, incredulous. "If she isn't with Hope she's with them! And all I can think is what did I do wrong?"

"Maybe she doesn't know what to say." Lyra looked up. "I mean...would you?"

Fang's brow furrowed tightly at the middle. It was a valid point that she hadn't considered before. Still, it failed to ease her dismay.

"I think you should just give her some time." Han said after a tense and quiet while. "We haven't even discovered how she was able to conceive to begin with." and he watched as Fang's expression tightened that much further.

"Does it really matter at this point?" the Oerban started massaging her forehead again, resuming her cadence of pacing. "What would it change?"

And this reaction forced Teh'Han to consider the possibility that it wasn't really Vanille's avoidance of her that was troubling her so.

"Besides, dinnae that Donovan fella say he was the wee lass's doctor? If that's true then you've gotta ken that the two have a little more history. He knows what she went through better than you do, maybe that's why she can talk teh him."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." she grumbled through a tightened jaw, her back to all of them.

"Well, no," Bard retracted, pulling on his chin and scratching at the new stubble. "But must ya be so hostile?"

And she only glared at him in a way that made the satyr shrink.

"No, no," Lyra interjected suddenly, "go on."

"Um, that was about it but," his gaze exchanged between the two women for a moment, "m-mayhaps ya should try and look at it from where Vanille's standin'."

Fang's gaze intensified as if in attempts to silence him, but it failed. In fact, he even stood up. You would think he thought himself ten feet tall and bullet proof.

"Come now, dinnae make such a face. Can ya not or are ya afraid too? Poor girl has a moment to think she's safe and sound and now I bet she feels like the damn blood-suckers followed her, like she's bein' haunted by some spiteful spook! I'd set my watch and warrant on the wee lass bein' terrified."

Han and Lyra were watching, their attention undivided. Even Gurthang seemed sucked in to the unfolding scene.

"Maybe she dinnae wanna speak teh ya 'cause she's thinkin' you'll judge her, maybe even hate her for what's happened. Ya ever think that, ya ever consider she might be scared of _you_ and what ya might say?"

Fang seemed mortified, her face paling slightly as she grimaced. "I wouldn't-,"

"Then step up and tell her so, ya stubborn woman!" his hands were fisted at his sides, and his bushy brows were low over his eyes. "It's _your word_," he jabbed a finger at her, "that holds the most weight to her, otherwise she wouldn't be confidin' in someone else. Dinnae ya see that? Or is it ya still dinnae wanna? Ya scared?"

Fang's reaction was immediate and purely instinct. She wasn't about to take such accusations quietly. Three long, forging strides brought her within inches of the satyr, perfect distance to deck him in the mouth. Bard stumbled back onto the couch, but he jumped right back up.

"Did ya do that 'cause I'm right?" one fuzzy brow arched at her as their noses almost touched. They were that close. A smear of blood darkened the edge of his lip.

"_Oi_, there will be none of that in my house!" Han said forcefully, his intention very clear. "Take it outside."

"No need," Fang grunted, taking a step back. "I was just leavin'."

She twisted into a hard and sharp about-face, not giving anyone even a simple "kiss my ass" in her departure. And she practically ripped the door off its hinges in opening it. The only reason she didn't just plow right on outside was the body in the way.

"Fang,"

She looked down at the silver-haired young man who seemed perplexed at the sight of her, one hand raised in a loose fist as if he had been in the middle of knocking when the door swung open. She shoved passed him.

"H-hey, Fang, I was actually wanting to talk to you," Hope stammered, half turning towards her.

"Now's _not_ a good time." and she just kept on walking.

"But it's important," he rose his voice a few notches so it would carry. He started to follow, an uneven hustle in his steps. "Me and Vanille have been talking,"

"Imagine that," her jaw tightened, her teeth grinding together.

Hope studied his next words carefully, realizing he hadn't wanted this conversation to go like this. Not at all, but he had to get it out before he lost the courage.

"I want to marry her!" he shouted.

Fang froze and went straight as a board, her hands fists at her side and shaking with the tension in the muscles. She listened as Hope's steps stopped just behind her, the whisper of grass and the percussion of boots like small explosions in her ears.

This was, easily, the very last thing she wanted to hear today.

"She wanted me to talk to you first," he continued cautiously. "She wants your blessing."

Suddenly she was so mad she forgot the initial reason why, and she took a deep breath to pull it back. Slightly.

Fang slowly turned, first looking over her shoulder with narrowed, lethally inquisitive eyes. "Tell me...you're joking."

Hope looked puzzled. Why would he joke about something like this? "N-no."

"You're serious?" she turned the rest of the way and took two steps towards him, stopping with her fists on her hips as she leaned slightly forward. "Have you," she paused to laugh, a cynical exhalation of a puff of air. "Have you had your head up your ass all this time?"

"What?"

"So ya marry her, then what? You expectin' that to make everything all better?"

"No, I-,"

"Do you have any idea what she's been through, what's happened to her?"

"Probably more than you do."

One razor sharp brow vaulted.

"I'm not expecting it to fix everything," Hope shook his head, "But it's what she wants. It would make her happy, and that's what matters to me. Look, I know you're trying to deal with a lot of guilt right now, we all are, but-,"

"Don't even," Fang stopped him, "don't even think about it. You haven't the damnedest clue what all this has been like for me."

"Then why don't you say so? Explain it to me,"

"I don't have to answer to you."

"Then what do you expect me to do?" he was pleading, frustrated, demanding.

"Drop it." she said simply, turning away from him.

"Well I'm not going to." he stood resolutely against her.

Fang laughed again, another misanthropic huff. "Fine. So tell me, how much _thought_ have you actually given this? Really?"

"Well," he shrank a little.

Fang struck back, sensing his sudden weakness. Like the hunter she was.

"Well what? Oh no you don't, look at me," she ordered, her gaze piercing on him now. "Let's discuss this, shall we? You honestly think you could take what's coming should you decide to go through with this? She has nightmares, did you know? You ready to wake up in the middle of the night hearing her screamin'?"

He thought he could. He was doing that now. Not in great frequency, mind you, but he'd been through his share of nights like that.

"And how's the intimacy workin' out for ya? Tell me, can she even stand for you to hold her hand? Or does she shy away, terrified? I sure as hell hope you're not marryin' her for the sex."

"Fang, please," and he cringed, disgusted by her vulgarity in regards to her sister. Her _sister_.

Though holding hands wasn't so bad, she was fine with it. Even hugging was easier now, he could hold her in bed without much trouble. But kissing and hugging at the same time was still a challenge. The way she shook broke his heart every time.

"You think you can stand the idea that she may _never_ be able to stomach layin' with you? How does that make ya feel?" and the question came in an acidic, almost smug sort of sneer, like Fang knew she was touching something vulnerable. "Or do you think she's a _slut_ 'cause she's already been with someone else? Maybe even more than one,"

No, never. It wasn't in him to think such things.

"Stop it,"

"The hell I will! You need to face this just like the rest of us, kid. And what about the baby?"

"She hasn't decided yet." his tone was bitter, his jaw tight and his teeth together.

"Okay then let's just say, for shits and giggles, that she chooses to keep it; how do you think you'll hold up knowing it isn't yours?"

Hope had no answer. Just like Fang expected.

"Can you _honestly_ say, convincingly, that you could manage all that and still be happy? I don't think you can. And I'm not just talkin' about you," she somehow didn't feel the weight of his green eyes on her, but she could sense what he was feeling by the dimmed look of them. Fang had made him see a lot of things he hadn't until now, and clearly he didn't like what he was facing. "I don't think either one of you are ready."

Hope was quiet for a long while, his eyes sinking until they settled on the ground.

"What, no argument?" Fang felt like she'd won this one, and it made her feel a bit better. But it was in the worst way, like kicking someone when they're down. "I guess this conversation's over then," and she started walking away.

"Fang,"

She paused, thinking it a favor to humor him. She'd bullied him enough.

"Maybe," he had to pause, the words hard coming, "...maybe she'll always have the nightmares. Maybe we'll never get to the point to where she feels okay with me like that...and she _could_ very well choose to keep the baby...but that doesn't change anything. I still love her."

Fang hadn't expected that. She had expected a desperate maneuver to get back in her good graces, to still her fury that he might plead his case. But no, it wasn't that.

"And that's why I _know_ I can manage, and I'm going to do more than manage; _we_ are going to make it."

Fang only gave him a look that begged "convince me".

"I don't care if I don't have a full night's sleep for the rest of my life, so long as I can make Vanille feel safe when she's afraid. And I don't need physical satisfaction to tell me how she feels," and he narrowed his eyes as her as if to accentuate that point in particular. "And so what if that baby isn't mine by blood? It'll be mine by love, regardless." Regardless of the circumstances, regardless of anything. "And I'll be damned if you stop me."

"Yet you're asking for my blessin' to marry her. Kinda backwards." and she didn't sound or look at all swayed by his rebuttal.

His face scrunched into a scowl. "Personally, I don't need it," he chanced to say, "but I came here for her sake. She needs someone she can count on, someone to take care of her, and since it seems like you can't step up and-,"

"Don't you _dare_ finish that," Fang's eyes widened and her nostrils flared. She'd gotten this lecture once already, and she wasn't about to tolerate it a second time. "You need to watch how that tongue o' yours is flappin' before I tear it out."

"I'm not scared of you, Fang, not when you're like this. You're just covering up your insecurity. What are you so afraid of?"

Her entire body tensed and all she could do was scowl at him. She was this close to saying it, but reigned it in. _You're trying to take her away from me. You're trying to keep all of her love to yourself._

When no other words came she spun on her heels to face away from him once more and started on. Hope watched her closely, unblinking until she was out of sight and away from the pasture. She had given him no answer, no yes or no. For a brief second he thought to go after her, but then thought again. That would not be wise, not now.

Hope shrugged. "Christ."

"That didn't sound too pleasant."

Hope jumped a little, half turning, seeing Teh'Han standing just behind him, his arm tucked in his clothes just so that it rested there like in a sling.

"It wasn't." the young man admitted.

"I apologize. I can imagine she's dealing with a lot of," Han searched for the word, "issues."

"More like a lot of shit. Might as well call it what it is."

"Indeed." Han nodded. "Anything I can do? Perhaps you would like for me to speak with her?"

"No, I don't think that's a good idea right now." Hope scratched the back of his head, feeling guilty, as if all this was his fault. "Though I wanted to talk to you too."

"Of course. Come on inside, we'll palaver a while."

Teh'Han, Hope found, was much more agreeable to what he had to say than Fang had been. He made the same admission as the two sat at the table and Han's reaction was by far more mellow.

"She wanted me to talk to you too, since you're like...her big brother and everything."

"Hmm," Han stroked his chin, tugging the thick whiskers there. "I appreciate the consideration, but I'll admit I do have some questions."

Hope swallowed. Here it comes.

"Is she keeping the child?"

"We haven't decided yet." he repeated.

"Are you content if she does?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Okay, that wasn't something he expected to be asked. Although he probably should have. "Um, well,"

And Han patiently waited for his answer, still wrapping leather.

"I guess...I guess it's because...no kid should be without a parent. Besides, Vanille can't do it on her own. I want to be there for her _and_ the baby."

Han failed to hide his pleasure in a smile. That was a very good response as far as he was concerned. Still, "Though it isn't yours?"

He was almost getting tired of getting asked that. "I'll love them as if they were."

"That's good to hear." Han was still smiling. "But do you think you're ready for that kind of responsibility?"

"Is anyone ever really ready to be parent? I mean," he paused a moment to think, "a lot of it is 'learning as you go', isn't it?"

"I suppose that's true." Han nodded, stealing a glance at Lyra who met it with a small smile. "But this isn't exactly what many would consider a normal circumstance."

"That's true. But...are vampire's really all that different from us? And the baby is only going to be half, so..."

"There's no way of knowing for sure. I'm to assume this has never happened before, so we're on our own."

"I guess that's what scares me most about all this." Hope's brow furrowed as his eyes eased away from Han. "What if something goes wrong?"

"There's always a chance of that." Han shook his his head. "Never mind the finer points. But, with that aside for now, I still have a question."

"Okay."

"What if Fang won't concede to let you marry her?" it was a real possibility he wanted to be sure Hope took into account. And maybe the young man didn't want to think about that right now, but that was no excuse to avoid it.

Hope took a deep breath, shrugging. "Vanille seemed pretty set on having Fang's approval...so if she says no I suppose I'll have to abide by that. But that isn't going to stop me from taking care of her."

"Awful brave words, lad," Bard said from the sofa, his bushy brows raised. "Could ya stand by them should she test ya?"

Han took no offense to the interruption, as he was going to ask a very similar question.

"If that's what it takes." was Hope's reply, though the idea of going toe-to-toe with Fang genuinely made him shake.

"You sound determined." Han nodded after a quiet moment. "And that, with great helpings of patience, will take you very far. I, for one, wish you the best of luck."

"So...you're okay with it? Really?"

"I am, though you'll have to forgive me withholding my congratulations until you sway that fiery dragon of a sister."

Hope swallowed, a fresh bubble of dread in his stomach. "I think I'm just going to give her some space for a while. Let her think it over first."

"Oh aye. Hiding is nothin' to be ashamed of." Bard chuckled. "And I mean that."

"Thanks." Hope laughed a little as well, though it wasn't very authentic. He looked at the satyr for a brief moment, though his gaze lingered for a few seconds. His brow see-sawed. "...Didn't you used to have spots?"

"Pardon?"

"I could've sworn you did."

"Oh, that. I guess they faded out." and the satyr stood, brushing off his lap with his palms. "That happens sometimes."

Hope's expression twitched again. "Weren't you shorter?"

"For pity's sake, that's the third time I've been asked that!" he threw his hands in the air. "I dinnae shrink nor grow, ya silly humes!"

"Settle down now, I'm sure he meant no offense." Han interjected. "But was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"Not that I can think of off the top of my head. Though I feel like I'm forgetting something..." Hope scratched his head. "What was it..."

"Must not have been all too important if you can't recall." he smirked.

"Oh yeah," Hope's face suddenly lit up. "Lightning's awake."

And while Bard's reaction to the news could be considered typical, a smile wide enough to show his bucked teeth, Han only flinched in a way that belied a sense of trying to cover something up. "That's good to hear," was all he said, and in a most unimpressive way.

"Oh come now, old man," Bard almost whined. "Let's all go and see her."

"No, no, I've got work to do." Han shook his head, hiding he gaze behind his bangs. "Maybe later."

"I'm sure she'd like to know you're alive, Han. She was convinced we'd lost you." Hope confessed, thinking it would persuade him.

"So I've heard. Still...perhaps later. I have things I need to take care of first." he asserted once more, putting up an insistent hand. "Once I've finished."

"Okay, okay, suit yourself." Hope relented, standing. Then he and the satyr departed.

And all this long while Lyra had been sitting there beside the heart, quietly watching, listening. Almost like she wasn't there. From where she was she was able to notice quite a few things, particularly her father's reactions to what had happened in only the last few minutes. For a short while after his other guests had left, Lyra watched her father work, watched the creases in his face deepen and his eyes tend to wander. Something was keeping him from focusing like he had been before Fang had stormed out. Something was distracting him.

"Are you really going to go?" she asked innocently.

"I doubt it. Too busy." he said.

"What else have you to do today?"

"I have to check the orchard."

"Like it's changed much since this morning?"

Han frowned. "The garden needs water."

"Didn't you see the clouds coming from the north? They're dark enough to be bringing rain. Maybe even tonight."

His scowl deepened, and then he shrugged. "There's no reason for me to."

"But Hope said-,"

"Hope is a little naive."

"What could it hurt then?" Lyra gently pushed Gurthang out of her lap and stood up, taking a selection of steps closer to her father.

"She doesn't need to see me." he shook his head, frustration showing in the uneasy, insecure motions of his hands. "She probably doesn't _want_ to see me either."

"Is that _really_ why?" Lyra put her hands on her hips, looking at him with one raised brow. And, strangely enough, Gurthang gave him the exact same look, though slightly different due to the shape of his face.

"What?" he was taken aback by the two staring holes in him. "I _do_ have work to do!"

Gurthang and Lyra both huffed in disbelief, the dog plodding the short distance to his master. He put his front paws on the table and stretched his neck, snatching the hatchet from Han's grip and walking off with it. In his surprise Han could only watch with his mouth hanging ajar.

"You don't seem to be too busy now, father."

Clearly. "You're _both_ conspiring against me?"

"No, not conspiring," she clarified. "We're helping since you're too damn stubborn to help yourself." Lyra stepped up to him and hooked her arms around his, lifting him with one pull out of the chair and led him across the floor towards the door.

"Now listen here, can't I clean myself up at least?"

"If she can't stand the sight of you dirty," though he wasn't really all that messy, "then she doesn't deserve the sight of you clean."

Sound advice.

"All of a sudden you're too much like your mother." he sighed helplessly, not having the heart to resist his daughter hardly at all.

"I thought that was something you liked about me?" and she only smirked at him as she marched them both outside. Gurthang was prancing just behind them, now that he had hidden his master's ever pressing "work". "Trust me, father, it's for your own good."

"We'll see about that."

As they traveled further towards the heart of the steppe, Fang was moving farther away. Her only thought was to find some place that she could be alone. All she wanted was some space, some peace to allow her to think all this through. And there was no coming back until then.

Author's Note: Got a little more confidence in the quality of this chapter, though most of it was dialog as usual. There's going to be a lot of that for while. Didn't feel good making Fang out to be a pro-bitch, though it seems a little natural. I've always had the feeling that under that seemingly tireless and flirtatious persona was really someone who struggled emotionally, especially with anger and no finger to point at someone in blame for it. With that being the case, one can only imagine what a person like Fang does to exorcise that anger. Guess we'll find out soon. See ya then.


	44. Chapter XLIII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Forty-Three**

"This is silly." Teh'Han grumbled. Lyra still had an unyielding grip on his heavily muscled arm, pulling him gingerly along. Although it wasn't like he was putting up much of a fight, to be honest.

"_You're_ silly." she countered flatly, completely serious.

"How on earth am I-,"

"You're being too stubborn for your own good."

Han rolled his eyes slightly. "I suppose you get it honestly then."

"I won't deny it." the girl shook her head. "But nothing is going to change if you just stay at home."

"Things are meant to change in their own time, Lyra, you can't force it."

"The hell I can't. Besides, how old are you again?"

"What does _that_ have to do with _anything_?"

"I'm just saying," she started to smirk, partially hoping he wouldn't see, "you don't have forever to wait behind excuses."

"What? _Now_ who's being silly?"

"It's still you, father." and she tugged him along, with Gurthang pushing against his legs.

And he frowned, unable to return with a suitable argument. How was it the women in his life could so easily manhandle him like this? How? I'll tell you, it's because he lets them. Although I would imagine he doesn't enjoy it nearly as much as most fellows do. Am I right?

Lightning felt glad to see everyone, at least she thought so. With sensations in general still in a somewhat fuzzy state, she had to guess to an extent what she was feeling. Still, with that being said, for the time being she was feeling happy. Maybe even at ease.

For the last hour or so the lot of them had been talking, about everything and nothing, just catching up really. This was managing to keeping the nodding ex-soldier from falling asleep completely. Then again, though she forgot, she had asked those present to make sure she didn't; whenever it seemed like she was about to go Serah would give her a gentle push and she would come right back. Light tried, gods know it, she tried her damnedest, but sleep was just so damn tempting. As weary as she still was, it was a wonder. The hardest thing about it, now that I think, was probably how she would often dwell on Pickles as he slept between her feet. He looked so content, so comfy, snot bubble or no snot bubble.

"Where's Fang?" it had taken her some time to notice, but Lightning had finally realized that the eldest Oerban was not there. You would think the severe drought of jokes at her expense would've been her first clue.

"I'm afraid Miss Fang is in a wee bit of tizzy. Haven't seen her in a while." Bard scratched the back of his head as he spoke, thinking no one would notice the small purple mark on the side of his mouth. He could still taste the faint twang of copper.

Light made a face of mild confusion, convinced she had missed something rather important. Then again, the events of but a few hours previously had yet to be disclosed by those who already knew, which was most likely why Vanille seemed so worried as she sat on one of the other beds. Vanille was doing much better by the way, the flu like symptoms having dissipated.

Light's eyes shifted to settle on each of them for a brief moment, almost begging for the details. She noticed Hope and Vanille, sitting side by side, whispering. Funny, why not speak up, she wondered. Then Hope lifted his head.

"I asked Vanille to marry me. Fang's not very happy about it."

Lightning looked at him, wide eyed, without a word to be said in reaction. Maybe that just made her displacement through the coma all the more apparent. And that didn't ebb even as the explanation for it was divulged.

"I'm sure she has her reasons," Lightning said after a moment, having thought about it, though seemingly unfazed by the whole "vampire-baby" thing. "Not to say they're good ones, but,"

"Oh aye," the satyr nodded in agreement, "but I'm thinkin' she's just got a lot on her mind right now. Mayhaps she just feels like it's a lot to take all at once."

"Or she's just being a bit of a bitch." Light countered soberly. To which Snow sniggered behind his hand. That was a very distinct possibility. She took a deep breath, letting it out in a slow sigh. "So when's the doctor due back with the blood work?"

"Soon, we think." Hope nodded unsteadily. "Maybe this evening. If not, we're hoping tomorrow."

"I wonder what he'll find." Vanille said quietly to herself. She was just as eager to know, if not more so than anyone else. Hope thought to attempt comforting her anxiety, slipping his hand into hers and lacing their fingers together.

The hinges of the door squeaked slight, causing every head in the room to turn. Well, with the exception of the cat who still gave absolutely no fucks whatsoever. Maybe they were expecting the medical professional that they had just been discussing, but Lightning was fairly certain the young girl who appeared was no one she had ever seen before. Although she recognized the dog the followed just behind her.

"Miss Lyra, so you brought the old man after all?"

"After some coaxing," she replied to the goat man, her eyes rolling slightly as she smiled. "I'd have twisted his arm if it wasn't the only one he had."

Lightning's brow twisted at the unfamiliar girl with the familiar accent, though was taken away from the fragile thought as Gurthang climbed up into the bed to greet her with his customary licks to the face. Pickles protested his intrusion, that gargling meow just enough to garner the dog's attention. Gurthang only considered the cat for a moment, long enough to decide it fit to sit on the disgruntled feline with a solid slump of his rump before returning to his affectionate ministrations. Pickles squirmed out from under him and stalked out of the room, pissy. Eventually the dog, perhaps thinking himself to be much smaller than in reality, did his best to curl into Lightning's lap. You would think he had missed her.

Lightning looked up from the now placated pup, eyes settling on the two new visitors. There was a faint resemblance between them, though the age difference was more than clear. Her gaze shifted from the young girl to the older man, noticing immediately his missing limb. While that trait alone struck a chord in her mind, something was amiss about how this man looked. Where was the savagery she had expected to see, that uncivilized darkness to his features that complimented the scars that marred his face? It was gone, and though it left him still seemingly wild, what otherwise remained was a previously unknown look of nobility. Maybe it was the simple fact that his hair had been cut, tamed, and his once so shaggy beard was now managed.

"Han." she breathed his name, clearly not expecting his appearance here. Uneasy silver eyes met hers.

Everyone saw it happen, the room even went quiet. No one said a single word, only watched. Maybe, someone of them wondered silently, this is what "eye-sex" was. Though it wasn't, one would certainly take a guess at it.

He scratched behind his ear nervously, maybe feeling everyone's eyes on him. His gaze fell away, suddenly he was beginning to regret having come.

"You made it." she said, at last having found the words.

"In spite of my best efforts, really." he laughed pitifully. "You can ask anyone, I was a mess. So it wasn't for lack of trying."

"Who's your friend?"

"This is my daughter," and he said it slowly, almost like he thought it would shock her something terrible. "Lyra, this is Lightning."

"But I thought," she began, one pale, rosy brow lifting.

"I know, I know. We only met some weeks ago. I had no idea." and there was a hint of sadness in the admission that he hid very well.

"It's nice to meet you." Lyra nodded. She would've greeted Lightning in the customary manner, but wasn't too certain if she would be physically able. "Father's told me so much about you."

Han's mouth fell open, his body language belying an attempt to correct her, maybe even stop his daughter from saying anything else. Like she would, by some chance, reveal some horrifying testament against him.

"Has he now?"

Han shrank once Light's gaze settled on him. "N-not really," he diverted sheepishly.

"That you blushing, old man?" Bard teased him. Everyone could see it, every single one of them smirking about it. Even the dog appeared to have the edges of his mouth curled upward.

"_Jeh'ta_," he grumbled, unable to stand it. "I got a little sun today is all. The whole lot of you are seeing things."

Still smirking some of them feigned clearing their throats, or attempted some other diversion in order to make themselves appear unaware. Mind you they failed miserably. And Bard still grinned like an idiot, having no shame in observing the obvious. Or, at least, what _they_ thought was obvious.

What on earth could they be teasing him about, Light wondered briefly. Then she felt a tiny shudder. What if Fang had let slip their conversation from a month or so ago? It wasn't too far of a stretch considering how close the two Pulsians appeared to be. Did everybody know about it? If that was the case, there was a certain Oerban that was going to die. Christ, if that was what was going on, right under her very nose, the whole damn lot of them were probably convinced they were in love!

Someone gag me.

"Shut up, Snow," Lightning said in response with a slight huff.

"But I didn't-,"

"Just go with it," Serah insisted discretely, mayhaps under the idea that he shouldn't argue with the medicated person. Particularly since that person was Lightning. Snow only huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Everyone had a small chuckle at his expense, but Snow was smirking too. Maybe he'd missed the abuse.

"So you dragged him here?" half of Lightning's question was directed to Gurthang, the other half at Lyra. There was a small grin tugging at the corner of her mouth, but it fell just as her gaze shifted to Han once more.

"I," he had trouble, rubbing his neck under her intense scrutiny. "I had some work to do...been busy with things at home...and...I didn't think you...would want to see me." and all the while he couldn't raise his eyes to meet hers.

A tingle of anxiety filled the air, everyone sensing it. Oh yes, everyone, as each in turn found an excuse to leave the room, be it honest or not. Well, with the exception of Bard who simply declared that "I'm just gonna go and not be here for a wee bit,". Honest to a fault that satyr. Honest to a fault. And Gurthang who thought he was perfectly fine right where he was.

Eventually it was just the two of them with that same anxiety dangling over their heads. Han still couldn't lift his gaze, his chin near his chest as he looked at the floor. He knew what they were going to talk about, if she bothered to talk to him at all. And to be honest, he didn't feel like he could face it right now.

"Come and sit." she said, and though her tone was hushed, it somewhat startled him.

With his eyes still to the floor he complied, turning a chair around that he might lean against the back of it as he hunched forward, his mouth pressed against the firm inner swell of his forearm. Maybe to keep him from spewing his thoughts as uncontrollably as they came to him. Lord knows his mind was full of them.

Lightning stroked Gurthang's snowy tufts systematically, thinking, wondering where to start as the dogs legs kicked slightly. She had so much to say, so much to apologize for. But how to begin...

"How did you survive the fall?" that was as good a place as any.

Han's brow lifted for a brief moment, but still not his eyes. "Stupid luck, I suppose. I hit the ground rolling and stopped at the river." He recalled the cold shock, hard and sharp river stones against his tender body, bruising. "Then the hawks appeared."

If he had looked, he would have seen the slight start in her features, a mild shudder that could've been just as easily missed.

"But...well...I'm here, so you can imagine it ended it my favor. Though I'll be damned how." he laughed sardonically. "It was the crows."

"What?"

"I couldn't believe it either, but come dawn they were everywhere, what looked like dozens of them. Honestly can't say I remember much of it, though..."

"I remember you telling me the crows were bad news,"

"I know, I know, but they weren't that night." he shook his head, raising his chin the rest it atop his arm. "And they haven't bothered me since. You remember Raul's pet? He even helped me home,"

"How did you make it back here anyway?"

"Recall that night in Dreadwood? One of the chocobos we lost came out of nowhere." he just managed to catch a glimpse of her surprised expression. Though the rest of the tale of his swift return to the steppe he cited with as little flare and fine details as possible. Just the essential things, such as coming across Sabine and Amala in Oerba, and making a mad dash down the mountain trails to reach the colony before they did. "I made it back just in time to help fight them off."

"Why? I thought the hawks terrified you."

It was a valid question, Han knew, but that didn't make it hurt any less to hear. "They do, but..." he had to think a long while, and she waited quietly for him to continue. "I guess...maybe I thought...reliving that night would've been worse than facing my fear."

Lightning nodded, understanding.

"I suppose...the steppe is my home. These people are my people. It would've been shameful to abandon them."

Although that statement she hadn't expected. What one earth had changed when before he was so uncertain of his ability to be of use to anyone? Maybe it was his apparent change of luck? Had it made him realize exactly what he was capable of, that he might be worth more than he gave himself credit for? Who knows, really.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have made it back sooner. Maybe I would've been able to stop...things from happening as they did."

Lightning looked at him, her expression twisted in a peculiar way. What things was he referring to, exactly? Was he guilty over Bard's concussion, Francisco's death, Bradley's? Or was it...no, it couldn't be.

"I guess," Light started uncertainly, "Maybe I have a few things to say sorry for too." and all of a sudden she felt like she had all the articulating abilities of mud.

Han laughed again after a moment. "It's nothing to apologize for. Even Shilo tried to pull me up. I don't hold it against you."

"No, not that. Well...not _just_ that."

Finally Teh'Han lifted his head, lifted his eyes that they might settle on her. Now it was her gaze averted, fleeting, unsteady.

"I do...apologize for that." and she had to force the word "apologize", almost like it hurt. Typically words like that weren't common for her, "sorry" was not part of her vocabulary, lest it was Serah. Otherwise, her apologias had to be earned. Though Han had, through his actions, and she couldn't deny it.

"But..." The words just refused to manifest at all. Her jaw clamped tight.

Han waited, feeling that his patience was infinite. What rush was he in after all?

"There is something else." and that didn't come easily either. Her words slurred slightly, hinting at the difficulty, but she was also starting to feel sleepy again. The fatigue she forced down, demanding herself to stay awake.

Han continued to wait, quiet, watching for a long while as she seemed to struggle. With what he wasn't very sure.

Finally, "I'm very proud."

"I've noticed." Han grinned a little.

"That's making this...tough for me. Still," she paused for another long moment. "I've come to realize," or she was _forced_ to realize more like it, "that I haven't been entirely...fair...in regards to you."

"I didn't expect you to be. You hardly know me."

"Let me finish." she shook her head. "I was acting foolish for foolish reasons. I had no right to...and I should probably feel lucky that it didn't get us all killed. I...I made no room to trust you because I didn't think you were worthy of it. I was wrong."

Han scratched his head after a moment. "Well...I certainly didn't make putting any faith in me an easy thing."

"Yet you proved yourself, but I didn't want to accept it." at last she was able to look, to let her gaze settle on him. What she did next would shock him.

Han's expression stretched with amazement, his silver eyes widening as Lightning reached out her hand, gesturing for him to take it. For a moment he wasn't sure what to do, if anything at all.

Lightning had learned, as she had the time to think about it, that Han was not a wordy sort of man. Words were cheap, unless of course they were the proper ones. Men like Han had to be _shown_ sincerity, shown remorse, given proof. So, since she wasn't keen to the proper words, not understanding his native tongue, she would have to give him physical evidence of her regret. She thought back, remembering a gesture she knew he would understand.

Han didn't know how to react, only to follow when their hands joined and she tugged at him, making him stand up and step closer to the bed. You could only imagine how he marveled at the way she pressed his thick, bony knuckles to her forehead.

"Lightning, you don't-,"

"Forgive me?"

The words left him for a moment, he was overwhelmed. "B-but you don't-,"

"Please,"

Honestly, this had never happened to him before. Typically he would apologize to a woman, not vice-verse. Was this even the right way to do it? Was there a different procedure? What if he did it wrong? Once the nervousness subsided, his expression leveled, even softened.

"Of course. I forgive you." how could he not? He held no grudges against her, never dreamed it. Besides, if he said no, it was likely to ruin the quiet thrill he was getting from holding her hand. He thought briefly back to that stolen kiss, and it made him smile a little.

Lightning looked up at him, still holding his hand though now it rested against her leg. "What? Did I do it wrong?"

"No, no, it's fine. Thank you." and he went back to his seat, though his hand was slow to slip from hers, his grip lingering almost stubbornly against his will.

Lightning felt a noticeable lightness come over her, like a weight just fell away. She relaxed right away, able to breathe easier. The air was clean again, lighter.

The former soldier went back to petting the sleeping pup in her lap, clearing her throat gently. "Your daughter...seems like a good kid."

Han also cleared with throat with a small cough. "She is. I think you would like her." and he nodded.

"What have you told her about me, exactly?" she was curious since the Lyra mentioned it. She was under the impression that Han was fairly indifferent about her, not at all expecting him to want to talk about her in any way.

Han scratched his head again. "Well, you know...how we met, our journey together, those sorts of things."

"Does she know how much of bitch I can be?" Light smirked.

"If she does, it isn't because of anything _I_ said." he had conveniently left out the part of her punching him in the face upon their second meeting. "Then again, her and Fang seem to have taken a shine to one another."

"I'll believe it." she nodded. "Are there any others left from your family?"

"Yes, my sister-in-law. She's been raising Lyra all this time. Didn't anyone tell you about the Kushtans having moved into the steppe?"

Light shook her head.

"Well, they have. They'll be here until autumn comes. Everyone pretty much leaves each other alone."

"I'm surprised you're not with them." she looked at him curiously. "It seemed like you missed them...the way you would talk about them."

"No, no," he shook his head. "I missed Naya, my child, my life with them. That's what I was missing, not the people. That hasn't changed, even with Lyra in my life."

Light nodded, understanding.

"This is my home now, I suppose. And as for my family, well...it is a work in progress. Maybe. I mean," he paused, a small smile tempting, "I have a farm with many sheep, Fang and Vanille have practically adopted me, and soon enough Hope will be my brother. I even have a loyal companion," and he nodded towards Gurthang, "and my daughter...I guess that satisfies me for now."

"Sounds pretty good," Light said, "but what's missing?"

Han only laughed without even a mutter of a response otherwise. And yet that reaction didn't much surprise her. Maybe her question had been rhetorical in truth?

"How soon will you be able to get out of bed?" Han's question swooped in out of left field. It took her a little bit by surprise for the subject to be mutated so suddenly. But she took it in stride.

"No sooner than tomorrow. Though, from what I've heard, it'll be raining by then." that was her unspoken goal right now. Get out of bed, get out of the building. Get outside.

"You're going to let a little water stop you? That doesn't sound like you."

"Shut up." though she knew he was right.

"Well, if it will help, I will come tomorrow. I'll keep the rain off of you."

Light laughed, thinking he sounded silly. Though, considering the man she had come to realize he was, he was probably serious.

"Awww,"

Both of them looked up, Han twisted in his chair towards the sound. The door hadn't been closed behind the ones who had left some time ago, it had remained ajar. Now heads were peeking through it, though Serah was actually inside the room, and she had made the endearing sound. They never actually left, they had been spying this whole time. Han appeared mortified, his face so red and his mouth hanging open.

Lightning only scowled, her eyes half lidded. "Really? Do you mind?" she shrugged.

Serah giggled behind one hand, sounding only a little nervous as she stammered a lackluster apology and twisted around. She shewed the others away from the door, but still left it slightly parted as she disappeared.

Han was still turned funny in the chair. "Are they really gone?"

Light didn't answer, not right away, and one brow slanted upward. It was quiet for a moment, then, "Marco?"

"Polo," came an all too familiar voice from the hall outside. "Shit."

"Beat it, Snow, and take everyone with you. If I have to come out there-,"

"Right, leaving!" and then there was the distinct commotion of a herd of rushing bodies that steadily faded until it was gone.

Han straightened himself with a breath of relief, his cheeks still slightly reddened.

"What's the matter?" she asked him, having seen the look of him, the disturbance in his face.

"Hm? Oh, nothing," Han shook his head. "Just...I think they're suspicious."

"Of what?"

"Us."

"What about us?"

"I believe they think something is going on." and he rested his head against his arm, covering his mouth and hiding the makings of a slight smirk. His mind was going, most likely, to that same unlikely and hidden place in thought as the others. Imagination was wild there, wild but beautiful.

"But...there isn't anything between us," her expression was quizzical, "is there?"

Teh'Han mentally winced and his stomach liked to twist itself into a knot. He took a breath. "No, I...I suppose there isn't." and he only lingered in his seat a moment longer. Suddenly he felt unwelcome here.

He stood up, straightened, but didn't allow his gaze to drift higher than the floor until he had turned away, where she couldn't see his face. "It's good to see you well again. Though I'd best be moving along...neglected my chores too long already."

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just got things to do." If ever there was a man who sounded less convincing...

Light watched him leave. There was no eye contact, no honesty in what he said, nothing. What just happened? What had she missed? Maybe it was the medication...

"Jesus, Claire, what did you _do_?"

Serah had reappeared, much to Light's mild confusion. Her brow furrowed and she squinted slightly. "Huh? Were you still listening?"

"No, but I saw Han as he left. Poor guy looked like he just lost his best friend."

Light looked down in her lap to still see Gurthang, fast asleep right where he was. But Han couldn't have been upset about that. The animal came and went all the time. So what the hell was there for him to be upset about?

"I don't know."

"You must have said _something_," and she gave her older sister a very peculiar look, as if to say _and you know it, don't lie to me_.

In the end, with no real explanation, Lightning only sniffed, turning her head away, denying and admitting nothing. Serah crossed her arms, one hip cocked to the side. "Really? That's how it's going to be? Fine, have it your way."

"What are you doing back here anyway?" Lightning asked after a moment of obstinate quiet.

"Oh, so I can't spend a little more time with you?"

"I didn't say that, it was a simple question." Light rebutted "Damn, you're getting awful sassy."

"And you're stubborn, so we're even. But the doctor is back with the test results so we all thought to just regroup here."

Light looked up from her sister to see that everyone had come back in, with the exception of Lyra, and with the addition of Raul. She hadn't noticed, looking somewhat surprised. All of a sudden she felt the need to go back to sleep, maybe things would make more sense after a nap.

"Afternoon everyone," the doctor greeted as he stepped in. "Miss Farron, you seem to be doing well so far."

"Fine. Though I've started having hallucinations," she grumbled. "I keep finding myself surrounded by jackasses,"

"Am I included in that remark?" Raul's inquiry was honest.

"Is she serious?" the doctor gave pause.

"No, she's just cranky." Serah rolled her eyes. Snow covered his mouth against a laugh, certain he would regret it if he let it go.

"So what did you find?" Hope was eager to know, and asked before the argument could escalate. Vanille sat beside him just as before, both of her hands clutching one of his.

"Oh yes, that," the M.D. had a manilla folder tucked under his arm, which he took hold of and opened to rest against his palm. "I'm surprised it came out so soon, considering the fact that, technically, one of you isn't really human."

Raul laughed very quietly to himself, knowing he was the one in question.

"Still, I suppose it best for me to explain a few things before I get to the nitty-gritty of it." he was aware of the natives in the room, taking into account their lack of exposure to these sorts of things. "See, creatures of a particular species, or family, tend to share certain genetic traits, not just in appearances but also to a cellular level. And although some strains of DNA may mutate, changing a branch of the family tree - so to speak - they're still compatible. That's basically what's happened here."

Almost all of them looked totally lost. But he continued all the same.

"So, according to all this, humans were involved in the vampire gene pool somewhere. With that being said, it shouldn't be so much of a stretch for the two species to produce offspring. At least, that's what one would think. Yes, humans had a hand in the mutation that cause the vampire strain, but it had to have happened so long ago that it's been diluted down to the nth degree."

"And that means?" Serah had both brows lifted, uncertain. She, most likely, had the highest degree of formal education among those listening, and even this was starting to be a little much.

"Through the multitudes of vampire-only mating generations, compatible strains of human DNA have been bred out. At least, that's what appears to have happened in everyone in this room except for you." and he looked squarely at Vanille. "Is there something I don't know about you that I should? You and your sister?"

"Um," Vanille struggled with a prompt answer.

"She and Fang were in crystal stasis for about five hundred years." Hope answered for her.

"Oh, well, that explains a lot." he cleared his throat. "And Raul, you said you were...hundred something?"

"Three hundred and ten." the vampire clarified with a nod.

"So, basically, that means humans and vampires _were_ genetically compatible, but without any sustained cross-breeding of the two the ability to reproduce was lost. But, as it stands, it's very possible that you and your sister are the only two human beings able to do this. On Cocoon or Pulse."

Whilst everyone else was quiet, Raul's brows see-sawed a little and he made a humming sound of fascination. Everyone looked at him, curious.

"What's with the faces? I'm intrigued by this as much as any of you."

"But it seems like you're thinkin' somethin' else," Bard crossed his arms, standing right beside him.

"Well," Raul paused but a moment, "it may sound a little silly to you but deep down I've always wanted a little one of my own. _What_?" he saw the faces everyone made, many of them of a strange sort of disbelief bordering on disgust. "Aren't I allowed? And with all do respect, Vanille, your sister is gorgeous."

"But aren't you...you know," Hope tried gently, "aren't you gay?"

"So? Do I have to stay gay?"

There was no response for that, only a slightly enlightened confusion for the contemplation of the question. That, and everyone else didn't bother to inquire as they had made note of the face Bard was making in the vampire's direction, his amber eyes boring into the side Raul's head. It was a fierce grimace, an expression no one had ever seen darken the satyr's features before. It was a common suspicion that he was incapable of such a look. Still his brows arched and his mouth set into a hard, yet toothless snarl. And though Raul opened his mouth to say more, his slitted eyes slid to settle on the satyr and made him pause. The slits shrank paper thin.

"I dinnae ken she feels like that for ya, Raul," Bard growled. "An' even if she did, I doubt she'd be too keen on whelpin' yer young'ins."

Raul couldn't find the words at first. "I...I'll keep that in mind. Yes, maybe you're right. Forget I said anything at all."

"Gladly," and in that instant, the goat man was his old self again, even smiling. "Please, doctor, do continue."

"W-well," maybe he was having trouble fully processing what just happened. "That's mostly everything. You wanted to know how it happened, now you know."

But, Vanille thought, it didn't change anything. True, there was a modicum of relief in knowing how, knowing it wasn't some curse or divine trickery. It was simply one of those things, those one-in-a-million things that just happened. Like having an extra toe or getting cancer. It just happened.

Still, she had that gods forsaken choice to make, and she still had no answer.

"So, unless there's anything else, I have a few other things to do while I'm down here. Although," the doctor glanced to the side, "it'll have to wait." He had wanted to take a closer look at how Lightning's arm was mending, in particular her shoulder, but she had fallen asleep. "Best to just let her be for now."

In the middle of the conversation, somewhere between five hundred and a hundred and thirty, Lightning just stopped fighting it and let her head fall back against the pillow.

"At that I bid you all good afternoon, you know how to reach me should you have a need to." and the lot of them thanked him for his time in turn as he left the room.

It was quiet for a long while.

"So...what now?" Bard straightened, vocalizing what everyone was surely thinking.

"Serah and I need to check on the baby." Snow was the next one to move, to speak. "She's been with Donovan and Beth nearly all afternoon."

"You know they like having her around." Serah smiled as she came to stand beside her husband.

"Sure I do, though I'm sure they'd like a break just as much."

"Best be getting indoors soon, too." Raul mentioned suddenly. "Heavy rain is coming."

"How do you know?" Hope looked up at the vampire.

"I can hear the thunder." and he tapped the edge of his ear with one finger.

"But Fang," Vanille whimpered slightly. "She's still out there somewhere, isn't she?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine. She's got enough good sense to get out of the rain." at the least the young man hoped so.

"Iffin' it would make ya feel any better, lass, I could go and look for her." Bard offered. "Though I ken I might need some body armor or somethin' of the sort to keep her from killin' me."

"No, I think Hope is right. Fang can take of herself." though you wouldn't think she believed the words coming out of her own mouth by the tone of her voice, the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Besides, I believe she must have a lot of soul searching to do." Raul tugged on his chin. "At least, if what you told me is true."

Hope nodded.

"That bad, huh?" Snow lifted an eyebrow, the rest of his face scrunched in a sort of bracing. "Man. You think she would be happy for you two. I know I am. Proud of you kids for taking charge like you are."

"Thanks." Vanille found a little strength in his praise.

Outside, under the growing darkness of the clouds above, Han made his way back to the farm with heavy steps. Chilly droplets of rain had already begun to sprinkle to the ground, dappling his scarred, creased features. Lyra was just beside him, having followed him all this way without a word. Perhaps she could sense how he was feeling, or how little he wanted to face those twisted emotions in his stomach.

"Father,"

Then again, perhaps not.

"You should go back to the camp, Lyra," her father sighed. "Hana will wonder where you are with the weather about to turn."

"She's knows exactly where I am." she replied confidently.

"I am sure she would prefer you be with her."

"And _I_ would prefer not to let you be alone. But if you wish me to leave, just say so."

Han's face scrunched tighter. "That's not it. I always want you with me, but I'm not in any mood to deal with Hana should she choose to get upset." and he really wasn't. Not of the mind or the desire.

"Then I will deal with her." Lyra responded, still so defiant.

"Suit yourself, though I'll hold you to that." No use in arguing with her, he thought. She was too much like her mother, her adoptive one included.

It was quiet for a long while after that, the two of them continuing across the steppe as the rain steadily grew heavier. Not another word was exchanged between them until they returned to the farm and went inside the house. Lyra stood near the sofa as she watched her father kneel before the fireplace, tossing logs somewhat carelessly into it.

"What did she say to you, father?"

Han knew what she was asking, who she was thinking of, and he did his best to continue with his current task and not show a reaction to the question. Honestly, he didn't want to think about it, but what he wanted rarely ever coincided with what he had.

"It isn't important." he shrugged, more like growled as he lit the kindling with a match. And it wasn't. Han felt as though his curiosities had been sated in regards to...and now there was no more mystery. Nothing more he had to trouble himself over. Just...nothing. Han stood and turned to his daughter, faking a smile. "Your father's just being a silly old man."

The look on Lyra's face belied a sense of disbelief in what he said. Still, it wouldn't be right to pry, if things were of the nature she was suspecting. Best she left it alone for a while. She continued to watch him as he tended the fire until it grew strong enough, casting a golden-crimson glow across the floor. Han then went to the table to fetch the still unfinished remnants of his new hatchet. He only spent a moment at the table to finish wrapping the leather, than he moved the chair to the grinding wheel on the other side of the room.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Gurthang is not here,"

"I can manage well enough with this on my own," Han replied as he pressed the pedal near the base that started the stone turning. "Though I have much of that tortoise hide left, why not make yourself a rain cloak."

"I have one, Tamur made it for me." she smiled to herself, referring to her suitor. Han had actually come to like him.

"Oh, that so? Then you can make me one." he laughed.

And the two worked side by side, quiet, content in one another's presence.

Author's Note: Can't believe I got this out on time, busted my ass to do it. And not to mention the illustration too, which I belted out and painted in about a day. Whoo-hoo. Honestly, at this point, I think I can accurately gauge how much I've got left of this, maybe five chapters. Heaven's I'm tired, but it's been such a great ride telling this story. I think once it's done I'll do a Live Discussion on Skype, get to know my readers and maybe discuss my upcoming projects. Sound like a plan? Love to see you there once I've got all the specifics. Anyway, next chapter: Fang confronts the green eyed monster. See ya!


	45. Chapter XLIV

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Forty-Four**

That heavy rain everyone was talking about turned out to be very heavy indeed. A three day deluge that simply refused to cease, and instead surged back and forth from being a gully washer to a drizzle. And all the while, without end, there were flashes of lightning and peals of thunder.

The first of those three days were the worst, the hardest, coldest rain the heavens had to offer pummeling the steppe below. The sky was nigh on black with clouds, the only light being the arcing fingers among the billows that flashed for but a brief breath, and then roared through the air. Needless to say not a soul went outdoors that day. But that wasn't so horrible. It was a good day to be lazy and strut about the house in your undies, or the buff if that's how you swing. Or cuddle up with a good book or someone special, and just nap all day. Yes, a good day for that.

The second day of the downpour was considerably more tame. Though the thunder had yet to cease much at all, concussive blows of light still frolicking within the clouds, the rain had lessened. It was a steady shower now, the air filled with the endless hiss of water falling to earth. It would finally fizzle out entirely by the evening of the third day, but I'm getting ahead of myself. My apologies.

The rains were heavy indeed, oppressive at times, but not only in the steppe. The storm ripped across the northern peaks as well, tearing through the many passes and ravines that made up that great earthen barrier around the valley. It was here, in these muddied and darkened passages that a certain warrior lingered, bereft and seemingly lost, soaking wet as she had refused to seek any cover. Perhaps she thought the rain could sooth that turmoil, that hot confusion that stiffened her form from head to toe and made her teeth grind together. Made her brow furrow and her fists clench. And in spite of the miserable conditions, that bone deep chill that rippled through her, she was resolute in her will to stay right where she was. She needed to get herself together, to sort through all of these muddled thoughts and intense emotions.

It was the only way.

It was dark among the rocks, pitch black almost. Fang sat upon the flattened top of a large, uneven stone, her legs against its slanted side and her hands together as she rested her elbows atop her thighs. She didn't care that it was raining, didn't flinch at the shattering crash of thunder overhead. She'd seen worse weather, to be honest, so these conditions were nigh on passe for her. Once in a rare while she would glance up at the sky, squinting at the raindrops, and watch as the light flashed. Or maybe look to the side, to the gaping maw of Mah'habara, to the curtain of running water rushing over it. The sound bounced withing the stony innards, disguising itself in such a way that the cavern seemed to breathe. Over all of that she could pick out the faint whistling of little lizards, small families of them hiding among the rocks. They chimed and chirped, apparently enjoying the storm. Otherwise, her gaze was fixed forward, a thousand miles away, and her thoughts were buzzing. As they had been for the last two days she had been out here.

What to do. What to say. What can be done. What will become of...everything.

Some many questions, all of them without an answer.

_Vanille's everything to me...now we're growing apart. What am I supposed to do...think...feel? I suppose I should expect it...what I let happened to her, how I let her down. No wonder._

Fang felt as though she had failed so miserable, so utterly in her vow to protect her sister, to keep her from harm. The misery was deep rooted and bitter in her mouth, a painful knot in her chest. The shame was overwhelming. She was unforgiven, and rightfully so. Fang felt as though if the roles had been exchanged, she wouldn't have been able to show leniency either. Her guilt was just so...absolute. A red streak on her face.

She thought back to when she had begged for Vanille's forgiveness.

And Vanille had given no answer.

Fang tipped her head back, the cold droplets of water pelting her cheeks and forehead as she shut her eyes against them.

_I don't deserve it. I don't. It's because of me she suffered so much pain. The one thing my father ever asked of me, and I couldn't do it. I don't...how could I have let this happen? When did everything suddenly go wrong?_

A tiny voice inside thought, for a very, very brief moment, that maybe being L'Cie had been better. It was simpler then. None of this complicated psycho-babble bullshit. You didn't have to talk your way through being a L'Cie, everyone already knew you had pretty much signed a death warrant and faced it day to day. No words necessary.

This wasn't nearly that simple. Fang had endless courage to face her own doom, but not a lick of it, it seemed, to look her sister in the face.

_I'm a bigger coward than nanny._

Fang had been berating herself like this since she'd left the steppe, and it hadn't ceased, though now she had stopped saying such things aloud. She was tired of hearing herself bitch after a while. There was just no stopping it, as everything she thought so ill of herself rang true in her heart. However, even with all of this conviction supporting how poorly she felt, she couldn't decide what to do about it. I, personally, would've disappeared, but I'm just a dipshit like that. Hiding from things is easy, but Fang isn't that kind of person, doubly so when family was involved. She couldn't abandon Vanille like that, it wasn't an option. Yet she couldn't find it in her to suck it up and confront her guilt.

Now, while I could go on forever about Fang's pity party, I'm afraid I can't. Got too much other important shit to get on with.

The lizards had suddenly stopped whistling. And it wasn't a steady fade. The finely tuned warbling suddenly went silent, gone in a flicker of light just before the rumble of thunder overhead. Fang didn't notice it at first, as the reptiles' singing was dull already within the tumbling rain. But in time, within just a few seconds, she had, and something about that made her uneasy. She straightened, easing to her feet with a careful slide to the ground. Mud splashed against her ankles, but that didn't seem to distract her suddenly wary examination of the area. What few, seconds long spurts of light revealed nothing out the ordinary, nothing amiss that she hadn't noticed before. Everything appeared as it was, empty, desolation intact about the stones of the ravine. But something was there. Fang could sense it.

She was right of course, and while she couldn't see the source of her sudden suspicion, it could see her. With all four of its glowing eyes.

_(-)_

Recovery was the most inconvenient thing Lightning Farron had ever experienced. That and her brother-in-law. It was a very close running, mind you.

Lightning thought she was on the up and up after the stitches in her stomach were removed, the doctor seeming relieved that she hadn't sprung a leak. At least that's what he appeared to be nervous about. But then he took a look at her shoulder, and while he thought it safe to remove the cast, he spotted another issue. With a closer inspection, poking and prodding, and having spotted the additional bruising, he surmised that there had been some additional decay within the bones. The impact to the joint had not been ideal for a clean break, so not only had it fractured, but it had splintered in places. This caused bruising in the actual bone tissue, down to the marrow, and with the damage to her circulatory system, some of it and the surrounding muscles had died. Though the bones had fused as normal, the injury left the joint in a state of atrophy.

That meant physical rehab. And Lightning hated rehab. Had since she came out of the first coma and had to go through six months of it just to walk on her own again.

It wouldn't be as extensive this time around, though that did little to soothe Light's irritation. She was still, more or less, stuck in bed, and with a god awful machine she'd sooner hurl out the door than stand to be hooked up to a second longer. It was a demonic contraption that was, by simplest definition, a muscle stimulator. Coin sized metal tabs had been taped to Light's bare shoulder in several places, and the machine sent a steady cadence of electrical impulses down the lead wires, forcing the muscles to contract with all the grace and ease of a bee sting. It would do this for ten minutes, then stop for ten minutes, and then repeat the process for an hour at a time. Light had to endure this ritual nonsense three times daily for, at the very least, the next two weeks. All the while taking a mineral supplement that she could mix in water that made it taste like lemons and ass.

Fucking delays.

Was it too much to ask just to go outside? Maybe even sleep in her own bed for just one night? Not even that, a twenty minute power nap would be enough, enough to keep her from wanting to choke someone. But no, instead she was given a firm foam stress ball to take her frustration out on. Well, it _was_ firm. Now you could see permanent indentations where her fingers had curled into it.

"Hey, sis," Snow greeted upon his arrival early that afternoon. "How's the cabin fever?"

To which she answered promptly with giving him the finger.

"That good, huh?" he smirked with a chuckle. "Ah well. Brought you a fresh change of clothes." and he set the small stack of folded garments at the foot of the bed. Gurthang was still there, and sniffed them in passing as he lay curled at the end of the mattress.

Lightning scowled, but not just because of the fresh pinch of pain in her shoulder. "Not until I've had a shower. No point in putting clean clothes on a dirty body."

And that was another thing rubbing her the wrong way. She hadn't had a proper bath in gods know how long. It made her feel just disgusting. Though sitting there with a blanket and skin tight boy shorts as her only cover wasn't much fun either. But she wasn't physically able to make the walk from the center to her dwelling yet, and she would be damned if she let anyone carry her to and from. To hell with that.

"Suit yourself." he relented, knowing there was no sense in arguing. He reached for a chair to sit in.

Maybe it was his tone, but for some unspoken reason, Light saw fit to throw the stress ball at him. It popped off his shoulder, though she was aiming for his face.

"Nice try, sis, I almost felt that one." he smirked again.

Lightning scowled, then looked at Gurthang who curiously met her gaze. "Hey you, bite him."

The dog looked at her, looked at Snow, and then gave a throaty grumble as he rolled onto his back, belly exposed and paws tucked. Snow laughed, thoroughly amused as he stroked the pup's tummy before taking a seat.

"Both of you can kiss my ass." Light breathed quietly. "Where's Serah?" she asked as if in need of rescue, pitiful and massaging one temple with one social finger.

"She should be along."

And since I am so cheap in literary fiber, like that of wet paper really, her arrival will come about within but a few moments.

The hinges creaked, the door eased inward, and there was the younger Farron with the bend of an umbrella handle over her wrist. Just as I predicted.

"Hi, Lightning," she smiled at her sister, not surprised to see her in such a state of displeasure. That was fairly typical when she was left alone with Snow for any given amount of time. "Feeling okay?"

"Hmm," it was a grunt, a sarcastic sound.

"Well, maybe this will cheer you up." Serah turned back towards the door, disappearing for a brief instant back into the hallway. "Raul found it in the storage closet."

Lightning lifted her head, though still slouching, and her brow flattened over her eyes. "You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding."

"What? You've been chomping at the bit wanting to get out of bed, well now you can."

"I'm not an invalid, I _don't_ need a damn wheelchair."

"You're certainly not going anywhere on your own two feet, are you?" Serah lifted one brow. "Not with that pride of yours being so heavy."

"Jesus Christ." Light slumped carefully back against the pillow, scowling. "I'd sooner crawl."

"No, you won't. I'll have Snow put you in the chair if I have to."

"The hell you will." the other two looked at Serah, denying her statement in unison.

Her expression dropped as she realized the vacancy in her threat. "Okay, I won't, but it's not like it'll kill you."

"Not me, just my dignity."

"Oh get over yourself." Serah put her fists on her hips.

Light looked at her sister with an air of surprise. There she was showing her age again, proving she was only younger in years these days. She had to wonder if it was marriage or motherhood that made her grow such a big brassy pair. In the end Lightning sighed, her expression softening.

"Can you take me by my place, at least?"

"Sure, but let me grab an extra blanket for you, it's still raining."

Snow already had yanked the blanket from the bed just beside him, handing it to his wife just as she turned to retrieve it herself. With an honest inquiry as to anything else he could do to help, Serah encouraged him away to check on Lora, who had been napping soundly when she came. The two kissed just before he slipped out of the room.

"Eww," Lightning prodded as she more that happily unhooked herself from that gods awful machine.

"What? It's perfectly normal. You're just jealous." Serah grinned a little as she brought the wheelchair closer, the blanket folded over her forearm.

"Jealous of that? Not a chance." Light shook her head. "But what kind of an in-law would I be if I didn't pick on you two?"

"A very pleasant one."

Gurthang chuffed with a spark of enthusiasm, as if agreeing.

"Traitor." and the dog shrank a little under Light's scrutiny.

Just as Serah had suggested, it was chilly outside, and the rain was still coming down without evidence of ever stopping. Serah tried to hurry, pushing the chair over the grass, expecting her sister to wince at being jostled in such a way. And though she had the open umbrella propped against her shoulder, effectively covering both of them, it didn't keep them completely dry. Oh well, she tried at least.

Light shivered at the weather, the cold and the wet. Raindrops hit her skin, her bare arm, goosebumps raising as she tensed. But it wasn't such a bad feeling; it was, in a small way, reassurance that she was alive. She took a deep breath, slowly, taking it in. God it was good to be out of bed, somewhere along the lines of seeing the sky for the first time, storm clouds be damned.

The dwelling was dark, still, though just as Lightning left it those months ago. The bed was squarely made, everything in its place. However, by now, there was surely a fine layer of dust on everything due to neglect. The idea sent a dull prickling up her back, irritating the regimented soldier in her. Still, it could wait. First things first, _she_ wanted to be clean.

"Should I stay? Just in case?" Serah wondered.

"In case of what?" Light had one hand on the dining table and the other on the chair as she pushed herself to stand.

"You know, you could slip...fall...choke on your own vomit,"

Light made a face unlike anything, gaping at her sister in abject disbelief with a hint of disgust. "What...the _hell_ are talking about?

"I read, these things happen."

"For gods sake," Light shook her head, "you're enjoying this too much."

"It's nice to take care of someone for a change." Serah came to stand behind her, a helping hand against one shoulder blade. Gurthang was there too, his head pressing against her butt to keep her steady. Such a good dog.

Light shrugged. "Snow is your husband, you might as well be a mother of two."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." she responded with a smile. "Enjoy your shower."

And she did. Hot water cascading from her head to her toes and it was amazing. It was like shedding a second skin, one she was far too happy to shrug off. She didn't care that the heat made her dizzy, or that she had to wash her hair while on her knees simply because she was too tired to stand anymore, or that her shoulder started throbbing. Nothing mattered for fifteen minutes. Then she dried off, dressed, and managed back into the chair. Serah tucked the blankets around her once again, and they were on their way back to the center with Gurthang close behind.

Just as they were reaching the double doors to the center, Serah stepping around to push one open, Lightning cleared her throat gently.

"Let me sit out here a while." she said. "For a few minutes."

Serah smiled. "You want the umbrella?"

"The rain isn't too bad right now. It'll be fine."

"Okay, just a few minutes. I'll be back." and off she went, not saying where and Lightning not asking. Gurthang sat down beside the chair, seemingly content with standing guard.

The rain really wasn't that heavy now, just a steady drizzle enough to make your skin shimmer in the presence of light. Lightning took a deep breath, slowly like before, and shut her eyes as she eased her head back, letting the cool droplets hit her heated face. She was feeling that nagging need to sleep again, and wasn't of the mind to put up much of a fight. She sat that way for a long while, felt like hours, teetering between asleep and awake. There was a strange comfort in the chill.

When the light sprinkle of water against her face suddenly stopped, accompanied by the peculiar rustle of something not quite like cloth, Lightning opened her eyes. Still looking up she found herself in the shadow of something tall, looming, arm outstretched over her to shield her from the rain with a long fold of tortoise hide. She blinked her vision clear, even rubbing her eyes in order to see who had appeared beside her so quietly.

"Han, what are you doing here?" though she was curious, it didn't show in her tone of voice. By the sounds of it, his arrival out of nowhere seemed commonplace.

He smiled a little. "Since the rain has let up, I wanted to visit little sister. I was just there, actually, and on my way out I saw you here. You seem well."

"I'm tired, but I'm all right." Lightning freed her arm from beneath the blankets, massaging her bad shoulder at the advent of a sudden twinge.

"Should I help you back to bed? It's no trouble,"

"No, no," she declined in a surprisingly gentle manner. "I wanted to stay a while."

Han nodded, understanding. "At least you have Gurthang to look after you then." He smiled at his companion, who regarded his master in a peculiar way, almost proud.

Lightning looked at the pooch also. "He's a good dog. You know, you can put your arm down. The rain isn't bothering me."

"Suit yourself." He lowered his arm, patting his dog's nose.

Lightning noticed his demeanor, how eased it seemed compared to when she saw him those few days ago. It made her curious, still having to wonder what it was that had apparently upset him before. Had it been something she said as Serah had accused? If so, then what? Well, why not just ask?

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Han nodded, one sudden dip of his chin.

"The other day, when we were talking," she started contemplatively, "why did you get up and leave? You seemed upset."

Han was quiet for but a moment, looking at her curiously. "Did I? Can't say I know why. Mayhaps I forgot. It happens at my age, losing track of the little things."

Bullshit.

"I asked if anything was going on between the two of us, you said no." she doubted he would forget something like that, failing to consider the matter a "little thing". At the time, it didn't seem to be such a little thing to him. "You were fine before, then you tucked your tail and left."

"You're sure? Well, it certainly sounds like something I would've done." his brow knitted in the middle. "I'm sorry, I just don't remember."

Double bullshit.

"Don't worry about it, then." she relented, turning her head away from him for moment. Then she turned back. "Where's Lyra?"

"She went back to the camp yesterday. They're preparing for a yearly celebration and they needed the extra help."

"You didn't go?"

"They don't need me." he laughed a little, an empty sort of sound coupled with an equally empty smile. "Not with my, well, shortcoming."

"Give yourself a little credit."

His empty smile stretched into something more genuine. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

"I'm not just saying that. You haven't let it slow you down."

"Didn't have much of a choice." Han reminisced a moment.

"Unlike myself. Coming to a screeching halt."

"But you're on the mend, you're very fortunate. You'll be up and about, ordering everyone around again in no time."

"The sooner the better."

And they shared a cautious bit of laughter, and then an uncomfortable period of quiet. Han knelt beside the wheelchair, disguising the gesture as wanting to be nearer to his dog, not so he could meet her eyes when they spoke again.

"Any news of Fang?" he asked casually.

"Nothing I've heard. I'd imagine she must be pretty tweaked though, being gone this long."

"She must have a lot to think about." Han stroked Gurthang's back, nodding. "I suppose the only thing anyone is really concerned about is this weather. No one should be out in this on their own."

"True." Lightning agreed. "But it isn't like we could force her to come back, not before she wants to."

"That's what everyone else is thinking as well. Except, maybe, the goat. Poor fellow."

"I think I've noticed that too. He's got it bad."

Everyone could see it, actually. Plain as the horns on the satyr's head.

Another stint of quiet settled in, neither human looking at one another, but the dog exchanging glances between them. Was he waiting for something to happen? Gurthang even whimpered a little when they went too long without saying anything.

"He likes you." Han mussed the puff of hair atop the animal's head.

Light looked down, smirking ever so slightly. "I guess so. He's not so bad, took some getting used to. Once you get passed how weird he looks...he's like a teddy bear." she reached down to pet him as well, stroking the fur back. Her fingers just happened to brush against Han's hand, a brief moment of contact that he pulled away from.

"I'm afraid I'll have to take him home with me, though. I need him." And while that was very true, he had a strange feeling, as if everything she just said wasn't actually directed at Gurthang. Maybe he was just grasping at straws.

"Good, I was getting tired him trying to shove me out of bed." Lightning was positive she would find paw shaped welts on her back if she looked from all the kicking and digging the dog did in the night.

"If I'd known he was bothering you, I would've come for him." Not that he would've stayed home had he done so, but he would've at least put forward the effort.

"It's no big deal."

As much as she was enjoying the idle chat, fancy the notion, Light felt as though they were talking in circles. They had so little in common, what on earth were they expected to talk about? So this conversation, in her mind, was going nowhere.

"Han, fancy meeting you here," Serah strode up to them, smiling up at the brute. Lightning was outright shocked when her younger sister held out her arms to him and actually received a friendly embrace from the Kushtan once he stood.

Han managed to catch her cerulean gaze and reddened when she said, "You hug now?" He could only laugh and scratch the back of his head through the hood of his cloak.

"Blame Lyra."

"Don't tease him." Serah chided. "Did you just get in?"

"No, I've been here a while. Though I'm afraid I was just leaving."

"So soon? Why not come inside, talk awhile?" and she completely ignored the funny looks her elder sibling was giving her. Begging the question "what the hell are you doing?"

"I've got too much to do, mayhaps another time." he declined, dipping his chin, perhaps uneasy about meeting her gaze. "It was good to see you both, all the same. Come, Gurthang."

Han started walking on, even turned completely away, but he didn't take his first step before realizing that the dog wasn't following.

"Gurthang, _come_," he repeated, his voice more demanding.

Still the pup disobeyed, rolling onto his back and groaning, much like he had earlier on the bed.

"Looks like he wants to stay." Lightning said aloud.

"Or maybe he doesn't want you to go, Han. Come on, visit a while longer."

His awkward gaze shifted from the ground, to Gurthang, to the two sisters and back again several times, unsure of what to do. As much as he wanted to stay, he _needed_ to go home. Go back before he did or said something he would regret.

"Please?" Serah requested again.

Finally Han shrugged. "Very well. A little while."

Han followed inside, slightly fretting. He hadn't wanted to lie to Lightning earlier, but thought it best for both of them. Although now he stood the risk of having to face it under her sister's scrutiny. It was hard enough to lie the first time, twice would be impossible. He had to do it, though, so don't think him so bad. Han was convinced if he blocked the conversation from a few days back from his mind long enough, it would disappear entirely. Like it never happened. And if it never happened, he could stop hurting over it.

For you see, Han had excepted the fact that he had fallen in love. But he had also forced himself to accept that it was unrequited. So, the sooner he could detach himself from it, the sooner he could move on.

And _that_, he realized rather suddenly, was not going to be easy.

_(-)_

There's a story that echoes across all of Gran Pulse, within all the bands of her native peoples. A story of a creature, a being supposedly from the beginning of time that dwelt in the deep places of the world. Theories of this creature were many and varied; some thought it a demon, others thought it an unknown god. It eventually came under the christening of many names. The Souless One, the Phantom Fal'Cie, _Teh'Fauta_ in most native tongues, the Grim Grin accounting for its only consistency, even _It_. But by whatever name you wish to call it, it did little to reveal its nature. Supposedly, according to the story, it never took the same shape twice, as it would take on a guise unique to whatever it was hunting, and only the victim could see it.

However for most Pulsians, like Fang, it was just a story. Something used to frighten children as they tucked themselves ever deeper beneath the covers at night. She took the tale with a grain of salt. Although that was about to change.

When the lizards stopped whistling it made her uneasy. Small animals like that typically didn't stop what they were doing lest there was a predator about. It wasn't the potential threat of something nasty roaming about that bothered Fang, it was what kind of nasty it could be. Behemoth's didn't come this high up into the passes, and none of the flying creatures would hunt in this weather. Even the wild dogs didn't come out in this to hunt in such narrow ravines. So what could it be? Nothing she had ever seen or killed before, she decided. That was the only fear she had, fear of the unknown.

There was a strange noise. Something echoed through the narrow passage and seemed to come out of the maw of Mah'habara. With her lance drawn, at the ready, she carefully approached the yawning stone opening. She stepped through the cascading water and into the consuming darkness of the cavern, listening, scanning the shadows to find nothing amiss. Nothing moved, breathed, nothing made that noise.

It sounded like some raspy, whining sort of chuckle. A jackal's laugh.

_Yeh-HEE-HEE_...

Once certain there was nothing in the cave, Fang turned to step out of it, through the curtain of frigid water once again. She opened her eyes once on the other side, blinking at a flash of lightning as it fractured the sky. Once her vision cleared, her eyes open, she forced herself to blink once more, unsure of what she was seeing. It was the oddest outline of a shadow she had ever seen. What she could see of it in the absolute black. There was a green glow, toxic, phantom vestiges of mist in its venomous light. Not that all of...whatever it was, was green. It was tattooed in it, Pulsian letters marking what looked to be its chest and arms, and four large, round eyes with flawless white cores that settled on Fang. There was that laugh again, closer, louder.

_Yeh-HEE-HEE_...

Whatever it was blocked the passage.

Then lightning struck again, a bright flash of light revealing the creature that towered before her. A crown of gold arranged like that of a stag, a great, vacant yet sinister smile, a vacancy in its torso where its soul should have been. Long, black talons curled from bony fingers that gripped the rocks, long corded muscles bunching along lanky arms. It had a tail - not legs - , a curling, coiling, writhing mass that ended in another pair of glowing eyes, another hideous grin. Parts of it looked to be made of stone, like its jaw and lesser of the two heads, intricately formed and tusked in the mouth. It loomed over the human it dwarfed so totally.

Feverish awe is what Fang felt at the appearance of the..._It_. Her attention was constantly fixed to one pair of its four eyes, as if somehow drawn to them. In the mild hypnosis she managed to make out the letters, the haunting markings that somehow formed into words she could comprehend.

Hate.

Fear.

Jealousy.

Arrogance.

_Yeh-HEE-HEE_...

What could it mean? Why would _It_ be here?

_You need me...you called me...I will help you. I will save you from your fear._

_I will save you from your hate._

_ Your jealousy..._

_ Your arrogance..._

_ I will take them into me, just as I will you._

But Fang heard none of this, refused to. Hell, part of her even refused to see the lumbering creature. _It _wasn't real, _It_ couldn't be real. _It_ was just a story.

And yet _It_ was here.

And _It_ laughed.

_Yeh-HEE-HEE_...

Fang started to hate that sound. She found her courage then, bringing the blades of her lance forward. "All right, have it your way. Let's dance."

The creature lunged, pushing itself upward on its hands before lurching forward, its tail rippling behind it as it dragged its belly. With mouth open, glowing green, it squealed an ungodly sound. Fang swung her lance horizontally in front of her, just as it drew close enough, but didn't connect. Imagine her abject disbelief when she looked to find the monster gone. What the hell...

It reappeared out of the shadows, the light of its eyes giving it away as it lunged again, claws swiping as Fang jumped away, her back smacking hard into the stone wall of the ravine. When she looked for it it had disappeared once more, leaving no trace of ever having been there. Up and down the pass, along the earthen rises, there was nothing. Fang's heart was pounding, her chest heaving for breath as the rain came tumbling down.

"I don't have time for this shit," she growled aloud. "Dealin' with spooks...to hell with it,"

_You're so afraid. Poor little girl._

And this time she heard the tiny, hissing whisper of _It_. She paused, though her body tensed like a steel trap to flee down the pass, back towards the steppe.

_Aren't you?_

"I'm not afraid of anything, you slinky bastard!" she screamed to the empty sky, to the rain and lightning.

_But you are, I can taste it. Salty as the tears you hide._

"Show yourself, damn you!"

_You're afraid of being forgotten, of losing your purpose. Poor thing._

Fang felt herself shudder.

_And so full of hatred, so full. You can't let it go, can you? You hate the ones who nearly destroyed what you loved most, what you swore to protect. You hate them for breaking your vow for you..._

Fang gasped for air, her body starting to shake. Her courage was dying. How could _It_ know? How could _It_ read her so well? For gods sake, _It_ was just a fairy tale!

_Then there's the jealousy, oh yes, that. Yeh-HEE-HEE...you want to keep what you love so close, let no one else have it, so close to suffocate it. Don't you?_

"No," she whimpered quietly, "it's not like that."

_Chaka-BOOM_ went the thunder above.

"It's not like that!"

_Then the arrogance. That is your capital vice, isn't it, little girl? So full of yourself, convinced you alone can undo it all? Can make it right again? You, a mere hume? Yeh-HEE-HEE..._

"What the hell do you want?" it was a hoarse cry into empty air, into the storm.

_I want to swallow your soul before your vices do._

Fang moved frantically, twisting in circles looking for the spirit. Whatever the hell it was. She lashed out, swinging her lance almost nonsensically at the darkness, expecting perhaps to connect with something. No dice. There was nothing there, just her and the storm.

But then the green light reappeared.

In the mouth of Mah'habara, behind the cascading water, the toxic glow was magnified to fill the ravine. Fang turned to face it just as _It_ emerged, arms outstretched, squealing. Fang would feel _It_'s great weight upon her when the two collided, not dissipating as it had the first time. A steely grip tightened, she could feel its hot breath, and air rushed frigid and sharp around her as she was pushed. Back, back, pushing still, and _It_ laughed all the while. And then she felt the push of gravity as they started downward, downward, perhaps back to those deep places where _It_ lived. Down into its lair, down to Hell itself, to be devoured. Unable to see, unable to fight, she was helpless against _It_. There was no way out.

_Christ, I'm gonna die. This is it._

Despair had a tight, ripping grip in her chest. Tearing.

_But I got myself in this mess, bein' as stubborn as I have. I should've just sucked it up and talked to her. I'm sorry Vanille. I'm sorry I let you down again. I was too focused on how to absolve my own guilt instead of what would make you happy. Too concerned on what _I _wanted._..

And it was true. Now she understood.

But was it too late?

Bony fingers loosened, the laughter faded, and the light fell away, but still down she went. It was the sensation of floating for all of perhaps a minute, then...

_Splat_!

Though she wouldn't recall the exact moment she struck something that gave but was still hard enough to make her body hurt. It knocked the wind out of here, and left her to lay there through the night.

Fang would wake to the gentle coaxing of a chirping lizard, that quickly scurried away as she began to move. Cold, wet, and now covered in mud from head to toe, the Pulsian managed to her feet. It was a mud hole she'd landed in, somehow, when she was so convinced she was about to bite the big one up there in the pass. Yes, up there, where she had been but was no longer. She was now at the head of the trail that led up to the mountains, on the western end of the steppe.

Had last night even happened? Was it all just a very elaborate dream?

Well, dream or not, it was over. And Fang now had some very important business to deal with. She pulled her lance free from the muck and started on through the mists of early morning, the rain having at last moved on.

Author's Note: that felt a little awkward, don't as me why. Sometimes writing it doesn't flow as smoothly as reading it, though it doesn't hurt the literature at all. Maybe it's just me being silly. Especially the conversation with Lightning and Han, then again, though their relationship is a little awkward right now anyway. Next chapter is going to be a little different. I'm going to right it in sections, each focusing on a different pair of characters, which aren't necessarily linked by time in regards to the story, but still prudent. In other words, they're not happening at the same time, but they still matter. And I'll start where we left off here. Hopefully I can pull it off. And I may be late posting next week as I'm off to visit family for the weekend. It'll be sunday at the latest that I get the next one out.


	46. Chapter XLV

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Forty-Five**

Vanille was worried.

Then again, who wouldn't be? The only family you have in whole world wonders off, going unseen and unheard for three days, and the weather being like it is. Who wouldn't be concerned? Her nails were nubs with all the biting she'd been doing. She paced, unable to sleep, all the while Hope watched her shadow from the bed, back and forth.

_I'm sure she's fine. _He would often mumble._ Come to bed._

And while he was most likely right, that didn't ease her fear. And he wasn't the only one trying.

_From what I've gathered, your sister seems very...stout for a young lady. I don't doubt she's all right._ Donovan did his best, considering what little he had come to know about Fang.

No words of encouragement seemed to put her at ease. No matter how well everyone meant, how they tried to make it better. And it didn't answer the ever present question that lingered between her ears, a phantom that whispered.

Why did she leave?

Vanille was aware her sister was upset, she'd heard the story from everyone who had been there for the big blow-up. But that still didn't explain...why didn't Fang just come and speak to her? They could always talk before, what changed? Had she done something wrong? Was Fang really upset with _her_? Once she processed to possible relevance of that question, it didn't stop running through her mind.

What had she done? Was it because she wanted to get married? Was it the general lack of communication between them in the recent weeks?

But most importantly, would she ever come back?

If she didn't...what on earth would she do?

As pitiful as it sounded, Vanille needed Fang. Had to have her in her life, or else nothing would be okay. She couldn't be whole. But what could she do about it?

Well, I'll tell you what she tried to do.

As lightning flashed and thunder rumbled over head, Vanille sat at the dining table, hands wringing as they sat in her lap. Hope sat across from her, and they were both quiet. Then, out of nowhere, unable to stand it anymore, she slapped her palms atop the table standing, announcing with an unusual resoluteness that she was going to look for Fang.

I'll let you a imagine a moment how well that attempt went. Yes, not so well. Naturally Hope was against the idea, not in the middle of the night, not with the storm sweeping the steppe like the callous hand of an angry god. Would you believe she fought him about it? She tried her damnedest to push past him as he stood between her and the door, twisted away when he put his hands on her. She was feeling genuine anger at his intervention, an emotion she wasn't entirely acquainted with. It threatened to take her by the collar and just run away.

And in a way it did. When she'd had all she could take of his logical excuses as to make her stay, her face reddened, her brow furrowed hard in the middle, and she slapped him. Though at that very instant when she realized what she'd done, her mind processing the fresh red mark on Hope's face, she recoiled, her hands at her mouth as she gaped, horrified.

For a moment the two just looked at each other, equally stunned by what had just happened. But then Vanille began to cry, whimpering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry".

Hope couldn't find it in him to be angry, even upset. It hadn't hurt that much anyhow. Still...all he could do was hold her close, comfort her. "It's all right," he said, "she'll come back. Don't worry."

But that was all she could do.

And yet, when her sister finally came back, appearing at her door early in the morning, muddied and dripping wet, the worry didn't ebb. It only shifted its stance to other things, but it wasn't such a loud voice in her head, its volume quieted by the surge of relief.

Fang stood there, head hung, brow low over her eyes, spattered with mud from head to toe and water still dripping from her hair. Her blue eyes were dim with fatigue, red and puffy as if she'd been crying. Vanille spotted the redness of scraped knees, wondering if perhaps she'd fallen somewhere. It would certainly seem that way, sullied as she was. Fang looked defeated, like she had nothing left to give, stripped down to her most vulnerable self. She looked ready to talk.

"Hey." Fang croaked quietly, her throat tight.

"Hey. You okay?"

Fang let out a short but heavy breath. She shook her head and then tilted her head up enough to meet her sister's gaze. "Can I come in?"

Vanille smiled a little. "Of course."

Inside, Fang tried to say what was on her heart, what was pulling her down like a cinder block on a noose, but Vanille wouldn't hear any of it. At least, not until she'd cleaned up. She was tracking mud after all. With Hope still asleep on the cot, twisted up in the sleeping bag, Vanille hurried her into the shower and laid out some fresh clothes. She then hung up the sodden sari and put a pot of cider on the stove to warm. The young man would wake to see the eldest Oerban sitting at the table, a mug between her palms.

"You're back," he mumbled, straightening and scratching his head. "Where've you been?"

Fang couldn't look at him, remembering the things she had said to him some days ago, just now feeling the shame of it. "You know...out."

Vanille pulled the other chair away from the table and sat across from Fang. She looked wary, maybe anxious, unsure of what was going to come out of this but ready to face it.

"I didn't mean to worry anyone." Fang said reservedly, her eyes focusing on the cup in her hands. "Just...had a lot of things to think through."

"Want to talk about it?" Vanille offered gently.

Fang raised her eyes to her. "_La'nai y'oae deh oae?_"

Vanille took a steadying breath. "Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of Hope too."

Fang's cringe was clear. Although Vanille was right; she had amends to make with him. She cleared her throat. "Never meant to get so...dramatic about everythin'. I'm sorry I dressed ya down like I did."

Hope knew Fang was speaking to him, though she wouldn't look at him. He accepted the apology all the same, knowing it was likely the best he was going to get. Fang could be so proud in spite of herself.

"I know why you did it, and in a way you were right," Hope elaborated. "I needed to hear it, though I think you could've found a better way to say it. Still, I understand."

Fang nodded.

"So why did you leave?" Vanille needed to know the whole story, not just bits and pieces.

"It wasn't because of you two, that's not it. Actually, the more I thought about it," she laughed vacantly, "the less reasons I had to say no. But I suppose that had a little do with it. It was just another hot coal under my foot."

"What else then?"

"Lots of little things...and some big things; what's been goin' on here since we got back being some of the little things." The vampire raid had been enough to frazzle anybody, then her younger sister coming up pregnant somehow, and Lightning...they just kept piling up until she couldn't handle them all. "Then there's the big things."

Vanille simply listened, her hands in her lap. Hope felt as though they had forgotten he was there, but that was okay. He didn't need to be an active party in this.

"I just," Fang began, wavering. "I thought...when you were ready to talk, you'd come and talk. I knew we couldn't force it so I didn't push. But then..." she almost felt like petty, spoiled brat for her thoughts, "those two show up and it seems like...you replaced me. I hear you're tellin' them everything and you won't even look at me."

"You mean Beth and Donovan?" she sounded somewhat surprised.

Fang only nodded.

Vanille took a steadying breath. "Why couldn't you just say something?"

"I didn't think you wanted to hear it. I felt like," Fang cringed again, "I felt like you didn't need me anymore. I suppose, in the back of my mind, something told me you'd learned how to handle yourself while we were apart. Maybe that's what kept me from speakin' up'. And then Hope comes askin' me to marry you and I just...I couldn't help but believe it. You didn't need me."

All Vanille could do was look at her, lost for words. She had no idea.

"I suppose that's really what all this is about...I'm afraid. If I can't...if I can't be there for you, to protect you, to make everythin' okay for you...what am I good for? I'm afraid and too focused on soothing my own guilt over what's happened." and finally Fang looked up, meeting her sister's gaze without hesitation. "I'm sorry."

A quiet, tense moment passed. Then Vanille stretch out her hands across the table and gripped Fang's.

"I'll always need you." she said. "And even if there's a time when I don't, I'll always want you in my life. No matter how much I grow up, or who I do and don't talk to, there's always going to be a place for you. Nothing's going to change that. You're my sister."

"Then why couldn't you come to me? Why someone else?" at the core of the matter, Fang felt as though her exclusivity to Vanille's well being had been intruded on, and she needed to know why.

"Donovan and Beth," Vanille took a moment, "they know. I wasn't going to them for the comfort, well, not exactly. But...they were helping me find the words, really. Some of the things...I just don't know how to say them. I feel safe with them, so it was easier since I didn't really have to tell them anything they didn't already know."

Fang felt stupid. Stupid and selfish. She shouldn't have let herself fret so much about it, and instead should've just been patient.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to you," Vanille shook her head, "someday I will, just...they're helping me get ready for when someday comes. That's all. And...I just...I've had a feeling that...you were ashamed of me somehow."

Fang's expression sank into one of despair. She couldn't believe Vanille had just said that. How was that even possible? "What?" was all she could manage.

"For what happened. Maybe it sounds silly to you, but," and she couldn't finish. "Maybe, some part of me thinks I should've been able to fight my way out of that mess...that _you_ think I should've been able to."

Another long, tense moment, Fang appearing to struggle with what Vanille had just said. There was a tightness on her face, particularly around the eyes. And she frowned.

Then, "The only hope I had was that you would survive long enough for me to find you. I didn't teach you how to fight, though I probably should have, but I taught you how to survive. I've said it before, none of this is your fault. I should've been there to protect you, should've tried harder to get to you sooner. I'm not ashamed of you."

Vanille nodded, though said nothing. She gently pulled her hands away, back towards her chest, and began to rub the soft underside of her wrist with one thumb.

"Still, you should be." she said almost too quiet to hear.

Fang took a breath to steady herself, sensing where this was about to go. "I've been thinkin'...where did you get those?" Part of her suspected the answer, but really didn't want to contemplate it.

Vanille's brow sank over her eyes, tight in the middle, and her chin dipped towards her chest. "I...I did it to myself." she winced inwardly, hearing as Fang let out all of the air in her lungs in a single rush.

"Sweet gods." Fang breathed.

"But Donovan saved me."

"Christ, someone else I've gotta apologize to," and at first Fang laughed, an empty, sardonic exhale, but then she put her palm against her mouth and started to cry. She couldn't hold it in anymore. Her guilt swelled at the confession, as did all of her other feelings, to bursting. The warrior drew back, shrinking on herself as the sobs released themselves, eyes screwed shut and tears glistening down her cheeks. Vanille could feel it coming over her as well, that overwhelming pain coming to a head. Her eyes started to burn with it, and at that she stood and went to Fang, kneeling beside her and putting her arms around her trembling form. They held each other tight.

Hope watched as he sat on the edge of the cot, humbled by what had just unfolded before him. He'd never seen Fang cry, certainly not like this. And while he felt the need to go to them, offer what comfort he could, he resisted. That was not for him to do, this wasn't for him.

"I'm so sorry," Fang gasped, trying to keep quiet. "Please forgive me,"

"But I don't blame you,"

"I don't care!" she wept into Vanille's shoulder, begging, "Just say it, _please_!"

Vanille found her composure for a moment, "Of course I do. I forgive you." only to lose it again.

Fang felt as though she could finally breathe again, the aforementioned cinder block and noose finally gone. She felt light as air, and though she still cried, she was smiling.

"I love you, Vanille,"

"Love you too."

Hope felt his own emotions churning, something deep inside that he hadn't realized wasn't there. Like the planets aligning or seeing the first star at dusk. Something was right again that had once been so wrong. A knot coming undone.

Maybe now would be a good time, he considered, to tell her they were keeping the baby?

_(-)_

_The remainder of this chapter - until it suits me - is going to be presented to you in small excerpts or events that, while prudent to the tale itself, do not necessarily occur in the same time frame or place. Since I'm sure you readers are not entirely interested in every little gnat fart that will surely occur between now and the end, I will only bother your attention with the important and semi-important things. Never mind the frivolous._

_(-)_

"So, have you given any thought to what I asked you yesterday?" Lyra asked casually, sitting beside her father in the grass, helping him shear the sheep.

"Yes." he nodded, curtly, passing an armful of fluffy stuff her way.

"And?"

"I don't need to go."

"Of course you don't _need_ to, but you should. I would like for you to."

"Lyra, I haven't been to part of that celebration since before your mother died, easily seventeen years ago. I'll be lucky I remember even one of the old songs,"

"I can help you, we can practice together." she encouraged. "And Tamur too."

Han nodded, recalling his daughter's suitor fondly. While he wasn't the sharpest spear in the hunting party, he a good kid all the same. You don't need a lot brains if you have a good heart.

"And you should dance, you're single now after all."

Han made a face. "For heaven's sake, I honestly doubt there's one woman in that entire camp that would do little more than glance at me. Besides I'd be the oldest man there, and Kushtans don't marry old." it was old saying he remembered from his childhood, but it still rang true. He shewed another sheep along and gathered the next one between his knees, shears in his hand.

"It would be good for you, and all of your friends could come."

"That would be up to Hana." he corrected, knowing his sister-in-law was most likely to say no to such a ridiculous request as allowing outsiders into their sacred ceremonies.

"I've already asked her. She was fine with it."

Han looked sideways at his daughter, as if disbelieving. And her response was a sideways look of her own, almost challenging, almost mocking, but mostly in play.

Eventually he sighed and looked away, shaking his head as he passed along another massive wad of fluff to her. "In any case, I doubt most of them would want to go. These Cocoon folks don't seem to have much of a mind for our ways."

"Then this would be the perfect chance to show what we're really like. Isn't it?"

"Supposing they care to know."

"I bet Lightning would like to see you dance." she added quietly.

Han laughed out loud, one bursting "Hah!".

Lyra looked at him, twirling wool in her fingers. Her eyes were set a slanted fashion, showing confused curiosity. "What's so funny?"

"It's nothing. To be honest, the fact that Lightning and I are even speaking is pushing her curiosity of our people."

"Oh...well, at least you're talking." she said, sounding somewhat hopeful. She was only a little aware of her father's relationship with the woman, had an inkling of her father's feelings, but was otherwise in the dark. "Will you at least give it more thought? Please?"

For several moments he didn't answer, but went about his work quietly, his face intense with focus. Then, "Very well. I will, though I make no promise as to my answer."

"Fair enough."

_(-)_

_9...10...11...12..._

Lightning pushed herself upward, a droplet of sweat falling from the tip of her nose. Her shoulder pinched with a mild discomfort, weary of bearing her weight for only a little while.

_13...14...15... ...16..._

Just four more, she told herself, just four more...

_17... ... ...18..._

She couldn't do it, and the ex-soldier hit the mat of the gym with a loud thump. Lightning rolled onto her back, looking at the ceiling a moment as frustration surged. She couldn't even pull off twenty push-ups. Pitiful. And that wasn't the only thing. Attempting to go for a jog this morning was just as depressing. Needless to say she didn't get very far before she had to stop, maybe half a mile on her way before she plopped down in the grass, red faced and panting. And swearing, I might add. She thought back to that seeming forever ago, back to when she first enlisted, when she could force out thirty push-ups if she thought about it, and run a mile in the neighborhood of seven minutes.

Poof, all gone.

Now she felt as though she was starting over from scratch. Which, in reality, wasn't all that far from the truth.

Still, lying there huffing and puffing about it never changed anything. Maybe sit-ups would be less disappointing.

After the first five the scar on her stomach was already protesting.

_(-)_

"Do you miss it, dear?" Beth looked up at her husband from where she lounged in his embrace, against his chest. "The city?"

"I do, in little ways." Donovan nodded with a small sigh. "Although this," he took a deep breath of the fresh, crisp Spring air, "is suiting me very well."

"Me too." she smiled. "Freedom is a funny thing, isn't it?"

"It is, my darling," and he pulled her a little closer, her salt and pepper tresses against his cheek, "a funny thing. Though, I've always thought myself a free man from the day you married me."

Beth only smiled, patting his thigh with one hand.

And the two sat together in the grass, watching the clouds go on their lazy way overhead.

_(-)_

Hope came inside with a heavy shrug, glad to be home again after spending most of the morning on the center. There was a short in the main breaker and Eugene had called him to fix it. It had been a hell of mess, somehow the cause being a colony of rats that had moved in. Big rats, size of small dogs actually. They chewed the life out of the wiring all over the center, causing shorts and an eventual black out of the entire building. Just imagine the fun he had. Thankfully Raul was willing to lend a hand, not simply because Hope needed it, but the vampire was rather peckish. I'll just leave it there.

"Sorry it took so long." he apologized, spotting Vanille at the table in the corner of his eyes as he pushed his boots off by the door. When she didn't answer one way or another he looked up, curiosity painting his features. "Are you all right? What's the matter."

Vanille sat there, silent, one elbow on the table and a knuckle near her mouth as she looked down at something. Her expression was dark, heavy, but she seemed off somewhere. There was a piece of paper in her other hand, and another piece very similar resting nearby on the table.

"Hey," he walked over, "isn't that the letter Donovan gave you?"

This managed to capture her attention, drag her mind away from whatever distant place it had been. "Hm? Oh, yes. I'd forgotten about it...found it in the box of books and thought to have a look."

"What's wrong?" he pulled the other chair up behind him, letting it settle in a way that would allow him to sit close to her.

"Nothing really," she said, still seeming elsewhere. "Just...remembering."

"Can I...what does it say?" he inquired gently, knowing full well she had every right to tell him off. Surprisingly she just handed it to him, and he took it to read it quickly. Well, as quickly as he could considering it was written in Pulsian script.

_Vanille,_

_While I will not beg for your forgiveness, as I surely will not have it nor do I deserve it, know that I send you my best wishes and may the Saints always be at your side. The other document enclosed should make even the great service you submitted to me. As I am a man of my word._

And it was signed by none other than the head of the Kalitas Household. Hope felt his heart twist, setting the letter on the table by its twin. It was uncomfortably quiet for a long while. Finally Hope found it in him to speak, though his mouth was dry.

"What else was there?"

Without looking Vanille pushed the other paper towards him. There was much more to it than the letter, with ornate borders and colored designs. He saw a signature very similar to the one on the other paper. There was a blank space just beside it.

"It's a Liberty Certificate." Vanille answered, though no emotion was hinted in her tone. "I need to sign it for it to be official."

Hope lifted one eyebrow. "Want me to get you a pen?"

She almost laughed. "It's not like I'll ever go back."

"Well...think about it," Hope countered softly. "What about the baby? What if they want to know where they really came from?"

Vanille felt her heart sink. That was a very valid possibility, one they would surely have to face at one point or another. Still, somehow, seeing that document...it was like putting a band-aid on a broken leg. An empty remedy for damage already done. Signing it would be akin to accepting a lie hat you knew was a lie. Settling, submitting. Vanille didn't want to submit anymore.

Hope realized very quickly how this was effecting her, though he was rather unsure as to what to do about it.

"How about we leave that alone for now." he pushed both papers aside and leaned forward, folding in the middle until he could meet her lowered eyes. "I've got an idea; why don't we go for a ride on Phantom? Let's just get out and about, you and me."

She lifted her head, causing him to straighten as well. "Would it be a good idea for me to..." and she put her hand to her stomach, wary.

"We'll take it slow, no worries. Who said we needed to be in a rush anyway?" and he smiled a big, genuine grin that he hoped would soothe her.

It worked, and she returned the gesture with a small, girlish giggle. And for the rest of the afternoon they felt like a couple of kids again. Not a care in the world.

_(-)_

"Tell me again, what am I doin' here?" Bard's request sounded more akin to a complaint.

"We're going fishing, nanny. Aren't you excited?" Fang laughed at herself, knowing full well what he was going to say.

"Woman, lemme tell ya," he lagged some way behind on the trail, "I dinnae see much point in me bein' here, seein' as I dinnae eat the stuff. So why'd ya bring me?"

"It never hurt anyone to learn, did it?"

"Nay, it dinnae, but I'm still failin' to see the reason."

"Who said we needed one?"

For a moment the satyr paused, watching as the hume strut along ahead of him. He shook his head, beyond puzzled. "I'm beginnin' teh ken that time on your own in the rain boggled yer brain!" he yelled up the path.

"As if I wasn't boggled before," she laughed, her voice echoing.

"Aye, you've got me there."

The two trekked up into Sulyaa, the sound of the falls drowning out any others. A few wild chocobos meandered the shallows, bathing and picking at the small rocks for gods knew what.

The two of them went to the banks of the spring, Fang took a seat in the grass while Bard managed a moment to have a look about the place.

"Innae this a fancy teh-do." he marveled. "And a waterfall? Well now I've seen everythin'," and then his gaze lowered, settling on his companion, and then he mentally corrected himself. _Now_ he was seeing everything.

Fang had slipped off her sandals, her bracelets, and unwound her sari to fold in a neat pile. That left in her little else. Bard felt what had to be every last drop of blood in his body rise into his face. She stood up slowly, almost like she knew he was looking at her, stretching with her arms over her head. she turned as she brought her hands down.

"Ready?"

Bard shook his head, fast as as if to clear his head. "I d-dinnae ken we were goin' in."

"Not afraid of the water, are ya?"

"N-nay, is just...are ya plannin' to swim after 'em?"

"What, you never been spear fishing?"

"Cannae say I have, lest ya countin' the bow teh my fiddle."

"Well enough with the googly eyes and get over here, I'll show ya how."

"M-mayhaps I'll just sit on the shore and watch. I ken that'd be better."

"Oh no you don't," she strode right up to him, in her skivvies and giving no fucks, and grabbed him by the wrist. "You're getting in the water if I have to push ya."

"I'd rather ya dinnae!" he protested weakly, but in the end she would have her way. And she did have to push him, just so you know. Somehow she ripped him out of his shirt and vest and gave him a loving boot to the hind parts. Down he went into knee deep shallows, but since he was on his backside it was up to his chest. And he was dripping, curls of his hair stuck to his face as he pouted.

"Ya test my patience, woman."

"Do I do that often?" she grinned down at him, one hand on her hip and the other curled about her lance. "Well, I guess if I'm just testin' then I need to work on my technique. Now on your feet, we've got wigglers to catch." and she held a hand out to him.

Bard blew a strand of hair away from his eyes, looking less than pleased, but not so much so that he would be so rude as to not accept her help. "Wigglers dinnae sound too appetizin'."

"Maybe not to you, but I love 'em."

"Cannae I just eat the seaweed?" he whined again as he trudged through the muck beneath the water.

"Look, I'll make a deal with ya," she stopped suddenly, inches away from colliding with him as she turned. "Quite your griping and catch just _one_ fish, and I'll leave ya be. Fair enough?"

"Okay, okay, sounds fair." and he submitted with no argument.

"Great, here ya go." she passed the lance to him and started on again.

"Dinnae ya need this?" he asked.

"Nope, gods gave me two hands."

Bard shrugged. Crazy hume.

For the next few hours the two of them trolled the shallows, following the flashes of silver beneath the water that were small and large schools of fish. Fang was practically on her hands and knees, or would be if she wasn't buoyant in any way, drifting with her hands low to the ground. She would bring them up under the fish in one quick motion, like it was no trouble, gripping the squirming and thrashing creature in her hands.

Bard was far less graceful about it. In fact one might call his skill on par with...well, clusterfuck would be a good word to describe it. He just went about thrusting the lance downward at the first sight of a fish, missing and scattering the schools.

"By Ares' beard!" he shouted, quite pissed now. "This is nonsense! No satyr aught to be muckin' around _fishin'_! I'll keep my fookin' grass!"

"Now, now, don't get in a tizzy. Come here, let me help." water sloshed with the movements of her steps, rippling against his bowed legs as she drew near.

"Nay, no more! Ya can take your stick and be on your way, thank ya very much!"

"Simmer down, would ya? Why don't we take a short break, yeah?"

"Fan_tastic_ idea." and he hung his shoulders, slouching as he made his way to the bank. His bottom hit the ground, water squeezing out of the thick pelt on his backside with a noticeable _squish_, and the lance fell beside him. He was pouting again, though now with more of a scowl than before.

Without meaning to, the satyr watched as Fang stepped onto the bank, a few fish of various sizes gripped by their tails in one of her hands. She came into the sunlight and all of the droplets of water on her skin caught it. She shimmered. You can imagine how quickly his sour mood improved. He was nigh on breathless as he helplessly stared.

Fang knew he was doing it, could sense it though her back was to him. She thought to tease him a little, mostly out of curiosity as to what he would do, how he would react. She slowly, _slowly_, bent down to lay the fish out in the grass beside her clothing. And she didn't bend her knees at all, so her pert backside was perched in plain view. And while she couldn't see it, the lower she bent, the higher Bard's eyebrows climbed, as did the redness in his face. She could've sworn she heard a tiny whimper. Fang had to withhold the giggle that was working its way out of her chest as she straightened, turning. She smirked at him, cat like, one brow arched.

"See somethin' you like?" she confronted him knowingly. And she expected him to recoil denying every word, but was surprised to see him smile with a strange, subtle confidence.

"Aye." he replied, twirling a blade of grass in his hands. He let it go to lounge back on his elbows. "Come hither, lass, and lay beside me for a spell."

Now _that_ she hadn't expected to hear. Not by a long shot. "Since you asked so nicely." and she did just that, assuming a pose in the grass much like his own. "So tell me, how long is a spell, exactly?"

He grinned a little, a bit of his bucked teeth showing. "As long as you'd like, I ken." He had to fight the urge not to look up and down her sleek form, still bedazzled with sun kissed droplets. Bard was starting to feel the burning tug of his loins just being near her like this. "Though I'll admit, I've got a question for ya...if it pleases ya teh answer."

"Oh yeah?" she appeared curious. "What's that?"

"I've been wonderin', for quite a while actually," he shifted on one elbow to face her, his fingers twiddling as his nerves won out over his new confidence. "What...what would ya say if...supposin' I asked to court ya?"

Fang smiled. She'd had a feeling, much more so since she'd come back from her little...outing. Bard had been giving her such close attention, making sure she was aware of his willingness to meet any need or request. All she needed to do was ask. It was cute in the beginning, her thinking it just some sort of boyish infatuation, but that had changed in the last few weeks. Just as his appearance had, slowly, as the days went by.

Bard's face had thinned slightly, as one would going from childhood into maturity. His jaw was stronger and hair now grew thick on his chin. But just his chin. Most of his spots had faded, save for those on his ears. The once coarse, brightly colored hair all over him had now softened, the colors dimming only a little. He had grown some too, in both height and girth. His shoulders were wider, his torso more defined, and now he was just taller than Fang by perhaps an inch or two. And his horns were now curling along the curve of his head, thick and nearly touching his shoulders when he tipped back his head.

Bard's looks were no longer so boyish, and neither were his feelings. For you see, satyrs on Gran Pulse only come under this change once they've fallen in love.

Two guesses as to who he has his eyes on.

"Courting, huh?" she smiled, and was debating on whether to keep teasing him or not. It was so fun. "Well, I don't know...findin' it hard to imagine myself gettin' along with a vegetarian like yourself."

Bard's bushy brow flattened over his eyes. "I'm afraid that innae changin' any time soon. What else?"

Fang laughed, brushing a stray strand of sodden hair from her face. "You're awful damn hairy."

"And you're not." he countered resolutely, though smiling. "You're a cry for help by satyr standards."

"Point taken." he got her with that one. "And while I'm sure I'll think of somethin' else...I suppose I could give you a fair shot. It might be fun."

"Ya will? Really?" his face lit up, a smile gracing his expression that showed all of his teeth and he didn't care who saw it. Though it reddened too. "I'll do my best teh make ya happy. Promise."

"I'm gonna hold ya to that," she assured him. "So...what now?"

"Actually, that leads me teh my other question," he admitted sheepishly. I know, bad pun is bad.

"And that is?"

"Might I ask ya for another kiss? If it pleases ya, of course."

She grinned almost slyly at him. "It would please me very much."

_(-)_

"Can you tell me anything Raul? Anything at all?"

Raul looked at Vanille briefly, regarding Kibo in the next instant with something in his hand. A treat perhaps. "I'm afraid I don't know much about vampire babies, or children in general. I certainly couldn't do much to help you in these circumstances." he hated to admit it, but he hated more to lie to her.

"What _do_ you know then?" she seemed desperate, but in all honesty that wasn't the case. Today was just a bad day.

"Like I said, very little. Although, I don't imagine them to be all too different from human children. Watching little Lora has shown me that. Still...what is it you want to know? Is it something in particular?"

Vanille wrung her hands, perhaps unsure of how to word the question. "Will...this is going to sound silly..."

"No, go on. I can't help you if you don't let me."

"Is there any way...could you tell who the father is?"

Raul's brows lifted. "That? Oh, well, actually, yes. You see, did you ever notice how a vampire's hair is different in the light? Well, that's how pure bloods tell one another apart, as we tend to look so similar. At least, it was like that before the tattoo craze started. Anyhow, the first child of any vampire will be born with their father's hair color, and will darken as they grow older. But it may be different for you. I cannot make any certainties."

Vanille nodded, thanking him before taking her leave.

_(-)_

A mile. Lightning had managed to jog a mile, and once again she sat out here, in the middle of the steppe, fighting to catch her breath. Gods be damned, why did this have to be so difficult? Maybe it was just the heat, now that Summer had settled in. Yeah, it was just the heat. It was the heavy droplets of sweat rolling down her face, neck, and chest. It was the stagnant air that offered no relieving breeze.

Sure, it was nature's fault. Right.

Light shook her head. Making excuses never got anyone anywhere.

She rolled her shoulder slowly, feeling it stiffen and throb. It had been doing better though, not so fussy whenever she worked it. Though it still had limits. The doctor said she would make a full recovery, but that was taking too long for her liking. I suppose nothing is worse than being in your own way.

Barking echoed from the near distance, making Light raise her head. Over the next hill came bounding a blue and white blur, and some pink of a wagging tongue. Light watched it draw closer, making out distinct features of what was surely Gurthang. Of course she was right, and the pup came right to her, slowing his frantic pace just enough not to run her down once he was close enough. He assaulted her with affection, licking and pawing without warning with enough diligence to put her on her back. She fought him with half a heart, not wanting to hurt the dog, just wanting him to dial it down.

"Easy boy," she encouraged while pushing against his massive chest, almost giggling as he resisted. "Easy,"

"You wouldn't think he saw you only yesterday."

Light managed to look over Gurthang, upward, to see his master astride Valkyrie. She wasn't only surprised to see him at all, but rather surprised to see him in his red sari. Normally he didn't, as he was often working on one thing or another and didn't wish to sully it.

She pushed the pup away, managing to stand up, brushing the grass off her bottom. "What are you doing here?"

"I was about." he smiled a little. "Gurthang bolted, this was the fastest way to catch up to him."

Light crossed her arms, thinking that wasn't the entire truth. "Where's Lyra?"

"She's at the camp, though I'm to meet with her soon. Can I give you a ride back? You seem weary,"

She almost blurted out the usual "I'm fine," but something made her pause a moment. Then she gave the tiniest, almost invisible smirk. "If you let me drive."

"As you wish."

Would you be at all surprised if I told you they didn't go back to the colony? Well, not directly at least. You wouldn't be all _that_ shocked, would you? The two wold ride through the steppe for the next hour or so, Gurthang following just beside and barking his head off. Did he think they were in a race or something? You never know with dogs. Still, the pup was happy, and so was his master to be quite honest. He was smiling the entire time, to the point where his cheeks were tender by the end of the ride. Though I would doubt he cared, it was a discomfort he was more than able and willing to bear.

"I could take you to the camp if you want." she said over her shoulder, Valkyrie now at a steady trot instead of a full gallop. They were near the colony stables now.

"No, it's all right, but thank you all the same."

Light pulled the reins to halt the animal, Han sliding off its back to stand just beside Gurthang. The dog was pawing at the horse, rising to his hind legs and whining as if he wanted a ride too. Light dismounted as well a moment later, one hand still on the leather straps. She watched him start to walk away.

"Hey, Han,"

He paused, half turning with a curious look.

"Thanks for the ride."

Han smiled and, for once, didn't try to hide it. "You're welcome." and on he went again.

Lightning took Valkyrie back to the stables, taking a moment to feed and brush her. As she stepped out she spotted Serah standing just outside of her dwelling, Lora in her arms.

"I saw that." Serah said, almost secretive as her sister walked by.

Light paused. "Saw what?"

"He likes you."

"Oh please," she protested. "We're just friends."

"Well...," Serah nodded slowly, "it's a start."

"It's all there is." and Light started walking again. She wanted to go back to the gym, maybe crank a few more push-ups. Or maybe she would go pry Fang off of Bard's face and have a round of wrestling.

"Just keep telling yourself that, Claire. Just keep telling yourself that." Serah finished too quietly for her sister to hear, grinning.

Author's Note: Damn, belted this out pretty quick. I'm a little proud of myself. Anyway, I'm continuing with more short excerpts come next chapter, so I thought I'd give you a heads up. So, yeah. See you next chapter. Thank Christ this is almost done. Also, the illustration on DA will be late. Sorry.


	47. Chapter XLVI

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Forty-Six**

_A continuation of the excerpts._

"You should have asked her to come, father. Why didn't you?"

"She wouldn't have wanted to." Han responded casually. Though a part of him had wanted to ask Lightning to come with him to the camp. But he wasn't going to say that out loud.

"You don't know that."

"Well...what's done is done." he shrugged, his voice growling. Then he released a frustrated huff. "Help me, I can't remember,"

Lyra had convinced Han to join in the celebration, to dance and sing with his people one more time, but as he had warned, Han had become unfamiliar with a few of the finer points. Dressing properly was one of them.

"You remember," she smiled, "you just can't reach."

"Let me _believe_ I forgot, won't you?"

Lyra giggled, tying the knot that he hadn't enough hands to tie himself. "There were are. So...what does she think of it?"

"Who think of what?"

"Lightning," she said as if he should know already, "what does she think about your arm?"

"Hell if I know." he answered quickly. "Probably nothing, just like the rest of me. Now, enough about that. Where did we leave off yesterday?"

"Father," she whined a little, "wouldn't it be better to practice with the others? You could show them how it's done."

"No one needs to see an old man make a fool of himself."

"You're just a little out of practice. Come on." and she reached forward to grab his wrist, tugging.

"Lyra, please,"

But she wouldn't listen.

_(-)_

It was very early, still dark enough outside to see stars.

Lora was fussing.

Both parents stirred in the bed, grunting and yawning.

"Baby's awake," Snow grumbled, rolling over.

"Before sunrise she's your baby."

"Yes dear," he nodded sleepily, feeling his wife's foot in the small of his back, pushing. "I've got it, you go back to sleep."

"Love you," she muttered, pulling the blanket over her head.

"You too, babe."

_(-)_

"Woman...what are ya doin'?" Bard asked, half his face in the pillow as he lay on his stomach.

"Nothin'." Fang replied. A simple answer.

"The hell you're not." he could feel something, a tugging. "Let a man nap."

"You've been in bed for most of the day." she argued. Then again, so had she, but this wasn't about her.

"That innae excuse for messin' with my parts like ya are."

"But you're the only other friend of mine with a tail. Shilo's not here." and she laughed. "What do you expect?"

"Why do ya have to play with it at all?"

"I'll admit it, I'm a little bored."

"Then why not go hunt some nasties? Surely that will entertain ya."

"Or I could put your hair in pretty bows." Fang giggled.

"Nay,"

"How about braids?"

"Nay,"

"Ooh, or pigtails?"

"You're bein' ridiculous." he groaned, pulling the pillow over his head.

"Nah, just curious. Can't say I've had much...exposure to someone like you, nanny." her hand strayed away from his swatting nub of a tail and, with one fingertip, followed the furrow up his spine to his shoulders.

"I dinnae mind yer curiosity," he grumbled, coming out of his meager hiding place, "but I mind yer pesterin'.

"So that's how it is, then? Okay, fair enough. So does this pester ya?" and she touched, more like caressed, his side with the back of her hand.

"Nay." he said after a moment, his tone having softened considerably. "In fact I like it a wee bit."

"Just a wee? Then I must not be doin' it right." and she touched him again, gently scratching his back with her fingernails. She'd been so curious about him this way for some time now, and she just couldn't help but let that curiosity guide her actions. Often times she would simply sit and think to herself, what he would feel like? Would his skin be rough and leathery, or just like hers? What else made him so different other than his funny accent and his more obvious looks?

"I like that very much," he shivered, goosebumps rippling across his body. He shifted, grinning, stuffing the pillow beneath his chin. "Tell me, just what are ya so inquisitive about?"

"Oh nothing much, some little things." she replied, not meeting his gaze as she was just too focused on him as a whole. "You're just...new to me."

"I see." He nodded against the puff of the pillow. Bard understood what she was saying. Fang saw him as some wondrous oddity, which wasn't a far cry as to how he looked at her. Since that moment he laid eyes on her in the marshes he'd been captivated. It was with that same sense of wonder that he thought to show his own curiosity. He reached, slowly, and touched the scar at her side. He recoiled when she paused, her eyes sliding to settle on him. "Did I hurt ya?"

"No, it's fine. Didn't expect it." she smiled gently. "Go on then, don't let me stop you."

And he did just that, finding the mark raised, but soft in a peculiar way. And the rest of her, well...it took his breath away.

"Anyone ever tell ya how beautiful ya are?"

Fang laughed, "Not in a long, long while." Try five hundred years.

"Could ya stand teh hear it from me?"

"I think I could."

Bard adjusted, resting on his elbow, now facing her. "I ken you're the most stunnin' thing livin' on Pulse's pretty face."

Still smiling she poked his stomach with the tip of one finger. "Flatterer."

"I mean it."

One dusky brow lifted to a sly angle. "That so? Prove it."

"Let me show ya, then." and his grin was a very smug one.

_(-)_

Raul looked down at the cat as the animal stared up at him from the floor. It had been sitting there for the last three hours, not moving, not even blinking it seemed. It just stared at him with one half-lidded eye as he sat atop the clerk's desk.

Finally he couldn't stand the scrutiny any longer. "Well puss, what is it you want?"

Pickles licked his lips, wheezed, and a bubble of snot formed in his nose. It steadily grew as it breathed, much to the vampire's disgust, until it burst against the cat's face. Raul's brow quirked. Then Pickles licked at it.

Raul twisted to his feet, retching as he hurried out.

Oddly enough, the cat watched him leave, wheezing in a way that sounded eerily like laughter.

_(-)_

"You know," Lightning began somewhat cautiously as she wiped the sweat from her face, "I don't know whether to think that smile of yours is just you being you, or disturbing. What did you do?"

Fang laughed. She came to sit beside her friend along the wall of the gym, massaging her wrist that she mildly fretted over having landed on it awkwardly. She was sure it wasn't broken.

"What _ever_ could you mean, sunshine? You know me, straight as an arrow, never in any trouble,"

"You are _so_ full of shit." Light shook her head, the back of it rolling back and forth on the aluminum wall behind her. "Seriously, spill it."

Still grinning Fang sighed. "Are you suggesting I've been up to no good?"

"Aren't you always? And don't try to sell me that 'fell down the stairs' crap again."

"Yeah, can't put anything passed you." Fang folded her hands behind her head, lounging. "I got an idea, why don't you try and guess?"

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"Because this is more fun. I haven't pestered you like this in a while; not since I drew funny pictures on your face while you were sleeping."

Lightning paled. "You did what?"

"I'm just kidding!" she defended. "Although I tried. Serah wouldn't let me. Still, go on, guess."

Light shrugged, but smiled a little. "Okay...I got nothing."

"Come on now, that's not a guess! Try, would ya?"

"Fine...you got laid?"

Fang grinned funny at the answer, yet seemed impressed. She didn't say anything.

Lightning did a double take, unsure of what she saw, then she gaped. "Are you serious? With Bard?"

"Damn, sunshine, make it sound like a crime." she laughed once more, though this one sounded a little less genuine.

"I'm not, just...you really...?" then she looked away as her friend nodded, brow still raised. "Hm. Hope that works out for you. Goat-fucker."

"Thanks," Fang was grinning again, "drag ass."

"Love you, Fang." she punched the Oerban playfully in the arm.

"You too, sunshine." and Fang shoved the ex-soldier as hard as possible, unable to keep from laughing when she retaliated.

_(-)_

"What about...Aela?" Hope looked across the table, his expression inquiring.

"...No." Vanille shook her head, chewing gently on the tip of her thumb.

"Okay, then...Terra?"

Again, "No."

Hope flipped pages forward in a book full of names. "Emily?"

"No...well, maybe. Something about that sounds right," Vanille almost nodded. "Keep going."

He sounded off an array of similar names, watching her reaction to gauge how close or off the mark he was. By the time he'd finished, however, she told him to continue on, perhaps having lost the flicker of inspiration she had. For a long while they went back and forth, eventually coming to a conclusion that there wasn't a conclusion.

"Let's set it aside for now. We've got time." Hope closed the book and set it on the table. "You feeling okay?"

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine. Maybe a little tired." she thought about it a moment. "I think I'll lay down for a while."

Hope nodded and flashed a small smile as he stood up. He went directly to her, gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. All the while she looked up at him, eyes widened with surprise.

"Did I scare you?" he tried not to laugh at the face she was making.

"I wouldn't mind a warning next time." she slapped his hand playfully. "I'm delicate, you know."

"How could I forget." he chuckled. "Can I join you?"

She looked at him with a quirked brow. "It's your bed."

"Just thought I'd ask first." and he carefully climbed onto the cot, settling just behind her. He draped one arm across her waist, the other bent and beneath his head. Hope pulled her close, her body snug to his. "This okay?"

Vanille only nodded, trying not to tense up. She was still somewhat skittish about this, about his holding her so close while in bed. It felt too familiar in some of the darker corners of her mind. But Hope was aware, and wary of the security of his embrace. He knew where the line was.

Though I'll say this sort of thing had become easier for them in the last weeks. Hugging and kissing, even at one time, was a simple endeavor. Progress. Slow, but steady.

Hope found her hand and laced their fingers together, gripping gently. For a long, quiet moment, they simply lay there. Warm, comfortable.

"I still need to get a ring." he said softly, his breath on her shoulder.

"What for?"

"For the wedding. Did they not exchange rings in Oerba?" he was smiling as he asked.

"No. We got tattoos."

"Oh. Really?" he hadn't expected that.

"Yeah, just like big brother has one."

"Oh, okay. Would you rather do that then? I mean, we'd probably have to go to Cocoon to have it done, but we could. If that's what you want." and if that were the case, he was hoping she wouldn't convince him to get one as large as Han's. "I'm all right either way."

"I...guess," she thought about it as she replied, curious as to what in all that little venture would entail. "Maybe."

"No hurry." he assured. "But what else goes into a Pulsian wedding?"

"Nothing much, really. From what I can remember," she had to think a moment, "the whole of the ceremony was just the couple getting marked. I guess there's supposed to be some big spiritual thing behind it, but that's about all."

"Hm, okay. I guess we'll have to come up with our own design...should be fun."

"You all right?" Vanille half twisted to look at him. Something about his tone of voice sounded strange.

"Huh? Yeah. I think I'm trying to take a nap is all."

Vanille smiled. "Don't let me stop you."

His grip tightened gently. "Stay with me?"

"If that's what you want." and she laughed a little, settling back into her previous position.

And while he was feeling somewhat groggy, like one would in the afternoon sometimes, his brain wasn't so fuzzy. He'd been meaning to talk to Vanille about something in particular, something he'd managed to keep to himself for quite some time, but had yet to feel as though it was the appropriate time to do so.

Hope didn't know if she had ever noticed his restless stirring at night, tossing back and forth in bed, or maybe his quiet pacing in the dark. Sometimes he would find his reading light and peruse a book for an hour or two. Anything to separate himself from her, from the temptation he never realized would be so powerful. Yet it was natural. He was only a man after all.

He didn't want to admit it, but had no choice but to accept his desires for his wife-to-be. Hope knew there was nothing wrong with it, but that was perhaps what made him feel so guilty, at times disgusted with himself. Vanille wasn't ready for that sort of attention, and he wasn't about to force it on her...but what was he supposed to do? How do you manage something like that? How do you control it when you love a woman in every way a man could?

They hadn't talked about it, hinted at it. It was too taboo even now. But he was going to have to bring it up eventually. Before he did something they would both regret.

However, for the time being he was content to just hold her, his mind in far off places that kept his desires in check.

_(-)_

"Father?"

"Hm?"

"What is it like to be in love?"

Han looked at his daughter a moment, seeming curious. "Why do you ask? Are you not in love with Tamur?"

"It's not that." she shook her head, her hands in her lap as she sat cross legged beside him. "I suppose what I mean is...what is it like for you? I know it is different for everyone...I guess what I'm looking for is advice."

"That so? But you're so bright as it is," he laughed softly. "Though you're right, it is different for all of us, but there are certain traits that all lovers share." he thought back to when he was younger, very much in love, and devoted to Naya. Oddly enough, his smile held. "The feeling that every day is a good day, no matter what happens, so long as the one you love is nearby. Your troubles aren't so large, or your pain so keen, yet you feel incomplete when they're away from you."

Lyra listened intently, hanging on his every word.

"Then there are the more amazing things." his smile widened slightly. "You never know what kind of person you truly are until you've fallen in love, been loved by someone. You're unaware of what you're capable of, what you're willing to bear for their sake. And all of it, everything, is simply for that joy they give you, that fulfillment of seeing them happy." then he sighed, slow, heavy. "I would've walked through fire for your mother." and there was little else to say on the matter. Most of love you learn about as you go.

"You miss her." it wasn't a question, it was an observation.

"All the time." and he sniffed and wiped his eyes with his arm. "Although...it's been easier recently. Don't know why."

"I know why." Lyra grinned, pushing herself to stand up.

He looked up at her. "Do you? Care to explain it to me then?"

"The only reason you don't know is because you're too stubborn to realize it." she laughed as her father made a strange face, her hands on her hips. "Now come along, there's still some hours in the day and we have much more practicing to do."

"Of course."

_ And that ends the collection of loosely necessary prose. The rest of this chapter shall continue as usual. Gnat farts and all._

_(-)_

There were but a few weeks left in summer, maybe four or so, give or take a day. The weather had been gracious enough to be rather mild thus far, when the previous year it had been more likely to give you heat stroke.

It was very warm inside the solitary house in the pasture, the hearth alight with a hearty fire, a nest of greens and vegetables boiling in the only stew pot. Teh'Han and Lyra had been up since before dawn preparing a customary Kushtan meal for the evening. Gurthang helped too by keeping a very close eye on the slaughtered ewe perched on the table, soaking in cider on a large stone platter. Only his eyes and forepaws visible at the edge of the table. He was very keen not to let anyone or anything run off with it, not until he got his fair share at least.

The first thing the two set to was digging a pit near the house which would act as an earthen oven for the sheep to cook for hours in. That, stuffed with some fresh goods from the garden and plenty of herbs would make for a very fine main course. By sundown, if all went well, the meat would fall of the bones.

Vanille and Hope came to the decision to marry before the child was born, which was just fine as far as Han minded. He thought it better, actually, considering all of the components for the dinner were available and fresh this time of year. The couple, with many of the others, would be on their way to Cocoon this afternoon to have the tattoos made, and would be back around sundown to celebrate. Han smiled at the thought of them. Kids in love, it was an adorable thing.

Lyra came through the door, some ash smeared on her face as she wiped at the droplets of sweat. "The coals are ready, father."

"All right." he nodded, dropping what he was doing and wiping his hand on the brown wrap about his waist. "Let's get it in the ground then."

The pair, with the utmost care, managed the dish out the door without spilling it, and walked about the house to the pit. They laid it, platter and all, right atop the coals, and then covered it in large, palm-like leaves before shoveling the displaced dirt back over it. Now all there was to do with it was wait.

Han stood there a moment, his hand curled over his hip. He was waiting. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Lyra, and Gurthang exchanging pitiful glances between the two of them. The pooch was probably wondering why they would take a perfectly good hunk of meat and stick it in the ground. But Lyra looked a little, anxious, like she wanted to say something but couldn't or wouldn't.

He laughed a little. "All right, you can go."

"Thank you!" Lyra leaped at him hugging him about the neck and kissing his scarred cheek with all the love a daughter could muster.

"Just be sure to send someone back to help me." he reminded her.

"I will, I promise!" she was already half way across the pasture, heading for the chocobo stable that she might ride to the colony instead of run. Han was still smiling ear to ear as his daughter left.

Lyra had gone on and on last night about being allowed to go to Cocoon with the others. And while he had been cautious about her first request to do so when she first arrived, he couldn't find it in him to say no this time. Before he just...he didn't know enough. Now he wasn't so worried over it. The experience would be good for her.

Han went inside to tend the remainder of the cooking, and then fetched his pipe. The only reason he needed help was getting the meat out of the pit before it burned, and Gurthang simply wasn't any use to him for that. He needed someone with thumbs and properly working hands, preferably both of them.

He would sit out by the covered pit, pipe in his mouth, puffing away as he waited. During this time, maybe an hour or two, he saw the airship take off, listened to the fussing of his livestock as it passed overhead. When would those pilots learn not to do that? He could only shrug and shake his head. At least it wouldn't be much longer now before his help arrived. Not long at all really.

Gurthang jumped up from where he lay beside his master, tongue and tail wagging, barking as he bounded across the pasture. Han raised his eyes, squinting against the sunlight. Soon enough a white horse came into view, and the pale rose hue of its rider's hair.

Somehow how he knew.

"Afternoon." he greeted from where he sat.

"Hi." was her reply as she slid down from Valkyrie's back. He had expected less. "Lyra said you needed some help."

"I do." he nodded slowly, once. "Though I'll admit I didn't expect _you_ to come."

"Well, I lived on Cocoon for most of my life. No big deal." she released Valkyrie's reins to let her wander, slowly walking forward and coming to sit near him.

"I thought your friends would want you with them."

"They did, but I figured I would be here when they get back. Besides, I haven't thanked you for repairing my gunblade. Suppose this would be a good way to pay you back."

"Well thank you, I appreciate that." and he nodded once again.

"But you should know that I'm not much of a cook."

"That's quite all right, I just needed another pair of hands. The company is welcome all the same."

Though you wouldn't think it considering how very quiet he was. For the longest time it seemed the two sat there without a word in exchange. Lightning sat beside him, perhaps an arm's length away, legs crossed and thumbs twiddling. Her eyes shifted somewhat anxious all about, taking in the lay of the pasture, and watching him puff his pipe in brief strays. Han appeared perfectly content to do just that, while she was feeling some sort of buzzing anxiety, a mild restlessness in her feet.

Was this all there was to do when waiting for...for what, exactly?

"You cook?" she had to say something. It was just too quiet.

A tiny laugh. "I eat." he replied casually.

That answer made her realize what a terribly stupid question that was. That, and how so fidgety she seemed to be. Why? It was just Han.

"It just isn't often I make a meal like this. Don't have many special occasions." he elaborated, then tilted back his head to exhale a family of smoke rings.

Lightning nodded, but unhurried in the gesture so not to give away her ill ease. "Shouldn't we go inside then?"

"Hm? Oh, no, the oven is right here." and he tipped his chin to the disturbed patch of ground. Light's brow raised, surprised. So that's where that smell was coming from. That delightful hint on the air. "I don't suppose this is done on Cocoon?"

"No. We use a grill...with charcoal...and beer. Lots of beer."

"If you'd like a sip of spirits I wouldn't mind to to fetch it for you."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Not after last time." and she half smirked, thinking back to that morning after at the inn.

"Indeed," Han had a small smile as well. "Can't have a repeat of that." though he didn't sound in the least bit remorseful of the thought. That particular encounter wasn't so terrible, he regretted nothing, only that he'd been roughed up and that it had only been a prank. A prank that, he was convinced, was in part to thank for the current state of his affections.

It was quiet again, but only a moment. Han watched the sheep meander across the pasture. Lightning spied the clouds stretching over the earthen barrier around them. A hawk, or some other hunting bird drift lazily over head, circling.

"I was thinking," he paused to puff the pipe, perhaps getting the words straight. "Taking some of the wool...maybe make something for the new baby. A stuffed toy...or perhaps a blanket."

Light let the words set in, not immediately reacting though she heard him. She was watching the hawk now, her bright cerulean eyes tracking its grace. "But how?" she looked at him, genuine in her curiosity.

"Well, I can sew rather well on my own, Lyra will still be here for a month yet," he thought again, for once taking his pipe away from him mouth, his arm resting against his knee. "After that...does Serah sew?"

"Last I checked."

"Hm, maybe she wouldn't mind."

Though what hung on to Light's mind most, for some reason she couldn't fathom, was the comment on the seemingly so short a time left her had with his daughter. She faintly recalled his mentioning of the Kushtans being here until the fall.

"Will you be going with them?"

Han sighed, smoke coming out of his nose in gray, fluttering cones. "No, I don't believe so." and his answer sounded much more final than it had those many weeks back. He had made up his mind. "This is home now, and I think Lyra has accepted that. As have I." It had been only recently, within the last few days actually, that he realized that this was it. He had finally found a place, not just to be, but to belong. He had everything he needed. Almost everything he wanted.

"How is she taking it?"

"Well I suppose, though I can tell she is...disappointed. Still...she understands." then he chuckled. "You lot are still stuck with me for now."

Stuck? Lightning considered the comment, wondering, feeling something off about it. Stuck implied a feeling of ill fitting, as if he were unwanted or out of place. That didn't work. It wasn't true and she could feel it. It was odd, but it was true and very clear.

"I wouldn't say that," she shook her head, looking up again though the hawk had gone. "You're practically family now."

"That so?" he raised one brow at her. "What a privilege."

"You don't sound too thrilled."

"That's not it at all," he shook his head, smiling. "Some things just take a little time to sink in is all. I'm very happy to hear you say that." Very happy indeed. "Oh, which reminds me. I made this for you."

Lightning, terribly surprised but not showing it, watched him as he clasped his pipe in his teeth and fished into the folded hem of the wrap at his waist. Whatever he pulled free of it was small as he could hide it in his hand, and it wasn't revealed until he held his hand out to her, gesturing for hers. A small, incomplete band of steel fell into her waiting palm.

"The blade of your weapon was shattered, so I thought to make something with the fragments. When I noticed that," he tapped the bend of one ear with his finger, "I thought you might be able to make use of it."

The arrow that had grazed her face, leaving a thin mark on her cheek, had taken a piece of her ear with it, and it didn't heal enough to close the gap. With little effort she slipped the simple ornament over the empty space, pressing until the ends pinched together tightly enough to stay in place.

For a moment, what felt like a small eternity, she could only look at him, feeling heat rising into her cheeks. She fought it back, clearing her throat before saying "Thanks."

He nodded, accepting her gratitude. "It suits you."

She didn't know how to respond. Was that a compliment?

The two of them went back and forth like this all afternoon, swapping stories and odd anecdotes that seemed relevant in the mind but not so much in the mouth. Awkward like a first date. In any case, that could be thought a small miracle considering the social graces, or lack thereof, of these two. Neither of which willing to speak lest it be an absolute necessity, and yet they spoke to one another freely. Who'd have thunk it?

Aside from that little...handicap, perhaps the hardest thing for Lightning was to keep from staring at his empty shoulder which was turned towards her. It wasn't off-putting, and of course she'd seen it before, it was just...I don't know what to call it. It looked like the old wound had healed as best as one could hope with that kind of trauma so...what was there to stare at? Perhaps she was quietly curious. Did it ever hurt? Did it still itch like the scar on her stomach did from time to time? A teeny-tiny voice in the back of her mind wondered what it would be like to touch it. It looked smooth, but thick, like a callous.

All that gaga nonsense aside...

The time eventually came, on in the evening, to exhume the sheep from the oven. It was easy work, surprisingly enough, and with no trouble they managed the hot platter to the table. The withered, now shriveled leaves were peeled away to reveal the sheep now roasted to perfection and smelling like heaven. With a cleaver Han further butchered it into portions, separating the legs and the ribs and the head. The choicest bits. Once everything had been spread out across the table, he gave a curt nod of satisfaction.

With such a spread there would be no room to actually sit at the table, but Han had thought of that. Hopefully none of his guests would protest to sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace. Or having to eat with their hands. Then again, that was just the way it had always been done. Turns out it wouldn't be much of a problem at all. When the others returned from Cocoon, all smiles and laughter and with the addition of Hope's father, they took it in stride. Everyone sat together in a circle on the large rug, shoulder to shoulder. Like a family so large and loving should. And they would carry on this way long after the sun went down and the moon rose over the valley.

It was so late when they began to steadily return home. One after another, many of them standing up and stretching, thanking their gracious host before bidding him farewell. With this Han began to gather up the soiled dishes, the remnants of food to stuff into Gurthang's bowl. Not that there was much. He was nearly finished when Lyra bumped up beside him, nudging his side with her elbow as if to get his attention.

"I think one of your guests wants to thank you personally." she smirked at him.

Han made a peculiar face, turning his head. What was Light still doing here? Her sister had long since gone, and he thought it only typical that she go along to make sure she made it home safely. He stepped away from the table.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, genuinely curious as to why she lingered. "Something you need?"

"No," she seemed to have trouble looking him in the face. "Just, well...thanks. And not just for tonight."

Han felt his brow lift a little. That was surprising, not just to hear but to hear _her_ say it. And to his face. But he hid his astonishment with a small smile. "It's nothing. We're friends after all."

"Yeah." she still couldn't look him the eye for some reason. There looked to be hints of redness in her cheeks. "Good night." and she shook his hand before departing.

Now Han and his daughter were the only ones left, Gurthang sleeping under the bed. It was quiet, save for the popping of the fire in the hearth.

"You need to tell her." Lyra said as if thinking aloud. Maybe she didn't want her father thinking she was trying to tell him what to do. Though that was exactly what she was doing.

"No, I don't." he shrugged in response, searching for his pipe. He could've sworn he'd set it down near the table.

"Why not?" she turned to look at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Because," he sounded a little harried, "it's better this way."

Lyra frowned, refusing to believe his answer.

Yet he believed it.

Teh'Han was convinced that this would be as good, in spite of his tiny hopes and daydream wishes, as things would get as far as the elder Farron was concerned.

But, as he said, it was better this way.

_(-)_

The evening of the Kushtans annual celebration was cool, and only getting better as the sun sank lower on the horizon, giving way to a velvet sky and the flicker of stars. With the diminishing light, the glow of many campfires within the steppe became more visible, a crimson glow in the near distance from the colony. If you listened carefully, you could even hear the revelry, the music and singing, the laughter of children.

While most of the dwellings in the colony were quiet at this hour, windows darkened with the typical evening repose, some folks were still awake and active.

Fang stood in the open doorway of Lightning's dwelling, arms crossed as she looked inside at the ex-soldier.

"You should go." the Oerban repeated for, easily, the third time. "It'll be fun."

Light sat at the table, sharpening the blade of her weapon, pulling and pushing to hone the edge on the wet stone. "I don't do fun. Besides, I'm busy."

"The hell you are. You can do that tomorrow." Fang called her bluff. "And tonight's Lyra's last night on the steppe. I'm sure she'd like to see us all before she leaves."

"The kid barely knows me."

"So? She still went through the trouble to get us invited. Come on, don't be such a damn stiff."

"No."

"I'm gonna stand here and pester the living shit out of you until you agree to go." Fang smirked at the cautionary stare Lightning gave her. "You know I will."

That was true. She most certainly would, all night if that's what it took. After a few moments of thinking it over, Lightning shrugged. A quick, hard breath as she put down what she was previously occupied with.

"Have it your way." she said in defeat.

"Always do." Fang laughed, stepping completely outside and waiting for Light to follow after. Bard was there as well, having been hanging back a ways this entire time, listening and waiting. He was rather excited to attend this celebration, mostly curious to see how other people carried on in times like these.

Once the three of them crossed the mile or so to the camp, he would know.

Campfires numbering in the dozens bathed the camp in golden light, like the sun had never set. Everyone was out and about, singing, dancing, children running around in a joyous tizzy. Their laughter was coupled with the music of drums and pipes and what sounded like chimes. In fact you could here the jingle of metal everywhere you went. Some dancers moved about the camp, most of them young men just coming of age, with strings of metal tabs on their ankles and strung about their waists. Otherwise, all they wore were decorative wraps, the rest of their bodies bare save for unique designs of body paint in a multitude of red flavored shades. Their skin shimmered in the fire's glow with perfumed oil. The scent of spices filled the air, something warming to the core.

"It's a prime opportunity to appreciate the culture." Fang assured Lightning as they walked together though the teeming throngs of people.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"You could certainly stand to at least _pretend_ you're enjoying it. Honestly, would it kill ya?"

Lightning didn't reply, thinking back to the last party she attended. It had been so long ago, she was just a kid, maybe fifteen. Gatherings like these just...weren't her thing.

"Hope and Vanille should be about here someplace, shouldn't they?" Bard asked, looking at the two woman from where he walked beside them. "Mayhaps I should go find them?"

"Good idea, nanny."

"You still call him that?" Lightning asked after the satyr had gone.

"It's all in good fun. He knows it." Fang smirked.

"Does he have a pet name for you yet?"

"Well," that smirked stretched into her customary feline grin, "he calls me god every now and then."

Light felt the heat rush up into her cheeks, and this made Fang laugh. The Oerban could see the redness blossom on her face even in this light.

"Was it something I said?"

"Shut up." Light turned her head away.

There was sure to be more to that conversation, were it not for the uplifted voice calling for them out of the crowd. Brief glimpses of a flailing hand appeared and disappeared over the heads of the people, until finally Lyra emerged before them, elated and generous with her greeting. She was adorned as the other dancers were, though her sari was woven about her in a way that it covered much more of her body than the young men and their meager dress.

"Welcome, I'm so happy you could come!"

"Thanks for the invite." Fang nodded.

"Please, come, we have a place for you." and the young girl took off again, expecting them to follow.

"Makes ya feel important, doesn't it, sunshine?"

"I guess."

As well it should have, as their place had been reserved just beside the chief. Vanille and Hope were already seated, and Fang and Lightning found a comfy spot on the massive rug beside them. Hana had greeted all of them with little more than a nod of acknowledgment.

"Lyra, where's big brother?" Fang asked, managing to catch her attention before she disappeared again.

"Father should be along shortly. Until then, please enjoy yourselves." and then she was gone, appearing to be in a very big hurry. It was but mere moments after that the noise started dying down. The teeming masses settled and the stray music faded out. Something was about to happen, something big.

The climax of the celebration came about with the completion of three ceremonial dances, only two of which shared a purpose. And those two were rarely ever danced by the same person twice. One was performed by the young men, the other by the women, and it was simply to make the tribe aware of who was of the appropriate age to marry. The third was the apex of the festivities, open to everyone, though many of the dancers would wear a traditional costume in observance of their patron Fal'Cie, Valefor. But more on that last one later.

Many, many years ago, long before anyone in attendance was born, a band of Kes'shians had broken away from the main tribe, wandering out of the desert to the neighboring highlands, and intermarried with the Kushtans. They brought many facets of their culture with them, such as these first two dances. Descendants of these first Kes'shians always performed the music, no exceptions, and would proudly don their green saris in recognition of their heritage. A simple ensemble of different drums, chimes, and chanting voices would mark the beginning, and would steadily build from a slow, alluring cadence to something heated, flaring with energy.

It was like something those from Cocoon and other parts unknown had never seen.

A massive space was allotted which everyone in the camp gathered around, eager to watch. The dancers, seeming to appear out of nowhere, began to move into the space, one by one, silent aside from the gentle jingle of the strings of coins about them. All of the young girls amassed together, kneeling on one end of the clearing. The men would go first.

Teh'Han was among them. Being a single man he was eligible to dance again, and was adorned and painted just as the others.

They arranged themselves in rows of four, there were perhaps a dozen or more, spaced evenly apart. They were ready, all that was needed was the cue from the musicians.

Kes'shian dances were worlds apart from any other tribe on Gran Pulse. Like much of their culture, they often imitated the movements and behaviors of snakes. If one takes a moment to consider what that might entail, certain things come to mind. Fluid movements, confident flexibility, and a grace that bordered on the divine. You would be right, but there was more to it. While Kes'shian dances did exhibit this, there was another form to it. While snakes could move in a such a way that would fool you to think they could float, consider their nature turned furious. The sudden straightening of the body, the snapping force behind movements. Their dances portrayed this as well, once the tempo peaked.

Slow and steady was how it began, the chanting voices low and haunting in triple tones. The dancers began to move, carefully, with intent, focus clear in their eyes. These first steps focused mostly on the middle of the body, the hips and abdomen appearing to work independently yet in congress with one another. When the other parts moved, such as the arms, it was in such a way that it belied a lack of definite joints. Seemingly without elbows or shoulders.

Naturally Han stood out. Missing an arm, how could he not? Though you would think he didn't notice his handicap, the way he moved as if it were still there.

Hips rolled to the tempo. There remained that illusion of no cumbersome bones, no restraint to the movements they executed. And the way the muscles of the stomach seemed to ripple, like a lazy ocean wave. It was hypnotic in such a carnal fashion. You would have to be dead not to feel it.

And that was only the beginning.

The intensity only spiked as the tempo increased. The voices died away completely, leaving the dancers to the mercy of the drums.

Now the entire body was incorporated, though all the parts, like before, seemed free to work of its own will. Chests rose forward and fell back as if separated from the spine and then dropped back into place, and do so quickly to keep time. The rolling hips shifted into a furious blur of motion, and yet the rest of their bodies barely budged. All of them seemed to just...vibrate with such primal energy. I mean that as a metaphor and an actuality. Some of the younger lads could do that with their hips, and Han managed to do it with just the muscles of his belly. How is beyond me. I suppose he's just nimble for an old fellow.

And they shimmered so beautifully in the fire light, with sweat and oil, even as the music stopped. The dance ended.

Next were the young women, and while their dance was slightly different, it followed the same scheme.

"Wasn't that fancy," Fang had enjoyed the show immensely, grinning in that cat like way, a cat that had been in the cream that is. She turned her head. "What'd you think, sunshine?"

Light didn't answer right away. Her heart was pounding and she felt a great desire just to take another breath. That was amazing. "Fancy, yeah."

Fang laughed. "Sounds like someone's in love."

"I didn't think big brother could still do something like that." Vanille had leaned over Hope's lap.

"And why not? If he can survive tumbling out of an airship, this is nothing." the elder Oerban dismissed. "In any case, I don't know about the rest of you, but I've gotta stand up. The ground is killin' my butt."

Lightning did the same, though she left mention of her hind parts out of it.

"Need to find that goat of mine," Fang thought aloud as they walked.

Light only nodded, distracted as the music was still playing, captivated by the dancing. It really was astonishing. She would never have guessed something so...she couldn't think of the word, to come out of such seemingly simple people. Again, she found herself humbled.

"I'm sure he's around here somewhere." she finally said.

Sometime in the midst of this going back and forth, the dance ended. This left only the third, the only purely Kushtan contribution. It would start in a few moments, once those that were putting on the traditional garb were ready.

They would find Bard among a host of children, at least a dozen, all of them trying to decorate his horns with ribbons and braid his hair. His only excuse being "I couldn't say nay to the young-ins." It was good for a quick laugh. And I say quick as the music suddenly began again, the great congregation of people moving to join in.

Light turned to see a sea of bodies moving. Those in costume stood out immediately. Bodies covered in brilliantly dyed ponchos that resembled wings when the arms stretched out, and wooden masked carved to appear as a bird. In the beak portion of the mask was carved a family of wooden slits, each acting on its own like a whistle and producing different tones. With a strong exhale the wearer could produce a shrill cry like that of those stork-legged creatures, the Yaksha. Some of the disguised dancers even imitated the movements of the monster, balanced on one leg and making sweeping motions with their arms.

What a marvel.

"Go for it, sunshine, live a little." Fang was just behind her, speaking over her shoulder.

"Huh?" Light snapped her head towards her. "Tell me you're kidding."

"It looks like it would be fun. I doubt it'll kill ya to enjoy yourself."

"Like I said," Light shook her head with a sigh, "I don't do fun."

Fang put a hand on her friend's shoulder, smirking once more. "Well ya do now."

Before Lightning could protest, she felt herself being pushed. Before she could argue she had been caught up in the great mess of reveling bodies, into the arms of a complete stranger. Fang was laughing hard enough to make herself sick, never mind that Light was likely to kill her once this was over.

It was totally worth it.

Fang then grabbed up her satyr suitor and pulled him along into the fray.

Lightning couldn't straighten up, couldn't get her bearings, couldn't find her footing. It seemed the instant she steadied, she would be handed off to someone else, another someone she didn't know from Adam. Spun about and exchanged, surrounded by sound, it was all a blur. And this chaos would sustain for a short eternity, though only a few minutes in reality, until the music stopped.

Maybe she let go of another someone's hand too soon, or maybe they misstepped, she would never know, but even though the music stopped, she continued to move. Forward, off balance, falling without a leg to stand on until she collided with something that gave under her. It felt like a body.

Panting, confused, she just lay still for a moment. She needed the spinning to stop first. When Light realized a strong arm had fixed itself across her back, as if to safeguard her from further stumbling, she scrambled to speak.

"Sorry, sorry," she muttered breathlessly, never mind whether this person spoke English or not. She lifted her head, greeted by one of the wooden bird masks. Somehow that made her feel a little less embarrassed.

That is, until whoever it was she had fallen on said, "It's all right."

Light felt herself stiffen, her expression twisting into something of curious disbelief. Not caring if it was some tribal faux pas to do so, she used one hand to pull up on the beak of the mask.

"I didn't think you would come." Han looked back at her, silver eyes set in mild surprise.

Lightning pressed up on her hands, lifting away from him, apologizing again as she cast her gaze aside.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, no, just lost my balance," she answered quickly, standing and doing her best to hide the feeling of the earth moving beneath her. "I'm gonna kill her," she shrugged somewhat nervously.

"Who?" Han rose to his knees, one brow cocked in confusion. "Wait, never mind, I can guess." then he laughed.

Oddly enough, Lightning found it in her to laugh as well. Still smiling she helped him to stand, their hands remaining clasped perhaps a second longer than what would be considered appropriate for "just friends".

"Father! Father, I told you!"

Both of them snapped their heads up, hearing Lyra shouting and seeing her there, jumping up and down and pointing at them with a degree of excitement neither had ever seen.

"I told you!"

Light hadn't a clue what she was going on about, but Han only shook his head. "No, Lyra, I was not in the circle. It doesn't work that way."

"Says you," Lyra ran to her father with arms out, her suitor in tow, and hugged him about the neck.

Lightning stepped back, letting them have their moment, listening only a little as the pair started conversing in Pulsian. She didn't understand a word of it.

"So this is where you'd gone off to?"

She looked to see Fang standing beside her, arms crossed, a knowing grin.

"Pain in the ass."

"Stubborn cow." Fang chuckled. "So, you having fun yet?"

Lightning rolled her eyes, one hand fisted on the bend of her hip. She didn't say a word, though her silence alone spoke volumes. In her own way, yes, she had enjoyed this, but she wasn't about to admit it aloud.

Things began to die down in the Kushtan camp, fires being doused one by one, parents carrying already sleeping children back to their tents. Vanille and Hope had already started on home, and Bard wasn't that far behind them. Fang lingered but a little longer, in the end following suit and going off into the darkness towards the colony.

"I would stay this last night with you, father. If its pleases you."

"Of course it would." Han felt his heart pinch. He had been trying all day not to think about it. "Here, take these back with you, I will be along after a while." and he handed her the ceremonial garments he'd been wearing to night, the mask sitting atop the pile.

"Where are you going?"

"I would see my companions home safely. I have faith that you can handle yourself well enough."

"I can." and Lyra gave her father a knowing smirk. "I will wait for you." and she kissed his cheek before moving on.

Han could feel his heart fluttering, and he knew exactly why. He tried to keep it quiet, knowing it would only serve to make him weary.

The moon was still high over the steppe, casting its phantom light on the hills and fields. Han could spot the dim shadows of those traversing the terrain, and followed after at a quickened pace. He wasn't much in the mood to make this walk alone. Though he would for most of the way, as the others were too far ahead.

A tiny voice in his head was berating him, telling him that he wasn't needed here, that he should just go home. But that wasn't what he wanted. He would return home in due time, he wanted to be here. Even if it was for ridiculous reasons.

Han caught a glimpse of Hope and Vanille stepping into their dwelling, the light in the window dying out mere seconds later. Bard and Fang were retiring as well, or so he gathered by the way the satyr carried her inside as a husband would his new bride. Gods only knew if they would actually sleep. He continued on between the dwellings, having a look about as if watching over those already down for the night.

There was but one light still on in the whole of the colony, and that was his intended destination. It could only be one person, as I'm very sure you've gathered by now. He advanced quietly on the dwelling, lingering just outside the open doorway and looking in. Why on earth anyone would leave their door wide open at night is anyone's guess.

"I thought that was you." Light said though she had her back to him as she stood near the table. "Did you want something?"

"No." Han sighed. "Just wanted to be sure everyone made it home. That's all."

"Thanks, but I think we can manage these wilds pretty well on our own." she turned to face him.

"So I've seen. Very well then, I suppose I'll bid you good night." and he started to ease away.

"Wait."

He hadn't expected that, so naturally it took him a moment to actually respond to the request.

"I have a question."

"Very well." he resumed his former place near the threshold, waiting.

"What was Lyra talking about?" it had been a tiny nagging at the back of her mind since.

"Oh, that," he laughed, a breathy sound commingled with a tired sigh. "It's a silly folktale. Nothing important."

"Would you tell me anyway?"

Again, surprised. To think she had any interest in such frivolous things. Well, he thought briefly, she _did_ ask.

"It's just...if you have your eye on someone, and you dance, if you're hand in hand when the music stops...you're destined to be a pair." he said it quickly, almost seeming embarrassed. "Like I said...silly."

Not so silly. No sillier than wishing on a falling star, or hunting for four leaf clovers.

Lightning felt her heart skip a beat, her head filled with a certain suspicion. He couldn't be...no, that was impossible. There was no way he was...

He was starting leave again, his body half turned when she called him to stop.

"Han,"

"Hm? Another question?"

For a split second the words left her, for what reason she didn't quite know. Where had her solid composure gone so suddenly?

"What is it?" this time he took a step towards her, entering the dwelling.

Light took a breath, steadying herself. There was no need to be so uneasy anyhow. Nothing bad was going to happen. It was a simple question.

"Was it you?"

Han looked perplexed. "Was what me?"

"That night...when I woke up...was it you?"

Han felt the air in his lungs leave him, his body deflating. He quickly denounced it. "What makes you think it was me?"

"I asked around." some weeks ago actually. She'd found herself with the nurse on duty that night, and she had described "that big fellow with the missing arm" as the one who had alerted her. "Why?"

All of sudden, Han hadn't the courage to look at her. His head turned. "I...it's what friends do, isn't it? I...was worried for you. Like everyone else."

"Then why not just come out and say so?"

While he didn't say so aloud, he had his reasons. She wouldn't want to hear it, or she would be upset. Oh gods, what else did she know? Was there some minute chance that she remembered all of his late night ramblings, that stolen kiss?

Lightning took two large steps, coming to be mere inches away from him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Here's another question for you," she craned her neck in such a way that he couldn't hide from her anymore. "Why were you holding my hand?"

Teh'Han noticeably winced. His entire form went rigid, his hand now in a fist, and the muscles at his jaw bunching. "I...there is no answer."

"Why not?"

"You," he winced again, his eyes screwing shut, "you would not hear it."

"Try me." another step closer.

"...I will not say it." he side-stepped it again. That yellow streak up his back was starting to show, when it hadn't for many months now. But he knew what would happen if he uttered even a word of what he was feeling. The gods would send it crashing down on him.

Lightning's face tightened, a mild scowl darkening her eyes. "Maybe you should go then."

"Maybe." and it was a defeated whimper that eased out of him. This was going nowhere, there was no need to linger any longer. Yet...

While he could not say, he could certainly act. He would never know where the sudden surge of courage came from.

Teh'Han didn't think about it, didn't think much at all, but more so reacted. He reached out, gods be damned he reached out and snatched her about the waist. With her arms still crossed her pulled her to him, and pressed his trembling lips to hers.

A tiny gasp left Lightning's throat, a sound small enough to miss. Her body tightened, flushing from head to toe with a stifling heat that settled in her chest and face. Her skin flushed red and her eyes refused to close. Her arms squirmed to unwind themselves, her palms pressing to his bare, sweat slickened chest once they were free. She pressed against him, resisting weakly, but he held fast. His grip only seemed to tighten, their stomachs surging into one another as they both fought to breathe. Light could feel his pounding heart beneath her hands, and the bristle of his beard around her mouth.

In the end, truth be told, she stopped fighting it. She let it happen, ceased trying to push him back and accepted the gesture. Gods, where had her mind gone?

Han pulled back, disengaging, panting in the quiet revelry of remembering what it was like to kiss a woman. But it was short lived. His mind fully processed what he had just done and it snuffed that tiny joy. No, no, he told himself. This was not right. This could only lead to trouble.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, taking another unsteady step back. His face was red, his entire body hot. "I need to go...Lyra's waiting for me. Goodnight." Han left as quickly as he could, leaving no room to linger any longer. If he did, he ran the risk of doing something else just as stupid.

Lightning stood there, now alone, simply baffled. What the hell just happened? Why couldn't she catch her breath, why was she shaking like this?

She looked down at her hands, finding them smeared red with body paint, marveling.

Gods. It had really happened.

Author's Note: Good heavens, what a load of blow this one turned out to be. And so long. Well, with all this being said, I can imagine maybe only two more chapters to this tale. Be sure to keep an eye on the following author's notes to come, as I'll have the official date and time for the live discussion for those who are interested. I just signed up with tinychat and am learning how it works. So maybe by then I'll have it figured out. Hope to see you then! Also, illustration is going to be late again.


	48. Chapter XLVII

**Blood Tithe**

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

Han hadn't slept all night, even after having run all the way back to the pasture, which was easily a two mile stretch. Somehow he simply wasn't tired enough.

Lyra had been awake when he arrived, saw and even sensed the dismay in him, but didn't ask as to the cause. She had her suspicions, and thus remained silent as her father cleaned himself, washing away the body paint and sweat of the evening. This took longer than you might think as he found himself lingering on the smudged hand prints on his chest.

Afterwards, the two sat on the sofa, Lyra on his right that he might put his arm around her, hold her close. She fell asleep this way, while Han remained half awake watching the fire dwindle to embers in the hearth.

His mind raced endlessly and this kept his eyes from shutting for longer than a second. So many things were going through his thoughts, mostly what he had done just hours ago. What on Pulse had possessed him to do such a ludicrous thing? He was only looking to hurt himself.

But he was so lonesome. And would be tenfold once Lyra had gone.

What was an old fool to do?

So he stewed in his quiet misery for the remainder of the night.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that left him too tired to fight the urge to cry when he and Lyra said their goodbyes. Just outside of the house they held one another, dawn fast approaching.

"I can't even begin to describe how much I will miss you." Han tried his damnedest to keep it together enough to speak. But it was a struggle to be sure.

"It's not forever, father," she assured him, her voice wavering just as much as his. "I will see you again. Someday, I promise."

He squeezed her tight, as tight as a one armed man could muster.

"Until then," she was that he was looking at her, "_live_. You deserve so much better than what you've been allowing yourself."

Han cleared his throat, though it sounded like a bitter chuckle. "Let me worry about that, you don't need to concern yourself with my troubles."

"But I have to, I love you."

That broke his heart. He pressed his trembling lips to her forehead. "You are my dearest treasure. If I do nothing else with my life, I can still die proud knowing you are my daughter. I am so blessed by you." It was the only way he could think to say "I love you too" without allowing his terrible jinx to touch her. He kissed her head, tears rolling down his face. "I have no doubt you will be a great leader someday. But you'd best be off now, they're all waiting."

"I know." she looked so disappointed. She didn't want to leave him behind, but knew he would not go if she asked. He had his reasons. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Had you been there...what would you have named me?"

His brow vaulted. What an odd question, though somewhat natural if you stopped to think about it. "Well," he cleared his throat again, "that's a bit difficult to answer. Though, knowing you now..."

She waited with bated breath.

"Fal'ya. Yes, that would have been your name."

Lyra smiled at him without hesitation, holding him as close as she could one last time before bidding him farewell. And while he had no desire to see her leave, he couldn't stand to look away until she was out of sight.

It wasn't until moments later that he became aware of what he'd said. The name he had given Lyra had meaning, unlike the one she went by. "Gods' light" was the literal translation. It was the Pulsian word for the light that came tumbling out of the sky when the clouds darkened and raindrops fell. Lightning.

How odd.

And then he wept, feeling the loneliness surging over him.

_(-)_

Lightning couldn't find enough things to keep her busy, to keep her distracted. No activity or occupation of her time could fully remove her thoughts from the happenings of two nights passed. She couldn't sharpen her gunblade enough, Valkyrie couldn't gallop fast enough, and even sleep wasn't adequate to quell the disquiet in her. She lay awake, hearing the multitude of crickets outside, maddened with just one question as she stared at the ceiling: what the hell? And this inquiry nagged her like a broken record, all day, with only moments long stretches of peace.

But there was no answer, none that she could bring herself to accept, and the frustration bordered on all consuming.

How could things have gotten so complicated? After all it was just a...

Her lips burned at the thought of it, and again she couldn't decipher why. Well, it _could_ be that...

No, she told herself again and again. No. It couldn't..._wouldn't_ be that. She would convince herself of that yet.

_Just go to the gym, you haven't tried that yet._ Light told herself early on that third day. _It'll work itself out._

At least that was what she was hoping. No such luck. After an hour of exchanging her efforts between the weight bench, the heavy bag, and enough push-ups to make a normal person want to pull out their hair if they could still lift their arms, all she managed to achieve was a shimmering layer of sweat heavy enough to force droplets down her face. In the end she sat on the floor, up against the wall with her head tipped back, eyes shut, and her chest rising and falling in quick succession.

Christ, why was this happening? Why couldn't she just let it go? It was nothing so profound as to latch on to her thoughts this way, was it? No, it was just a...

Her lips started to burn again and her face twisted into a scowl. She didn't want to think it through, complete the thought for fear of that tiny mote of a chance that she would fully explore what it could mean. She ran the risk of getting attached. She just...couldn't let that happen. It was too...dangerous. But her mind wasn't about to let her shut it down completely. As there wasn't just the event to consider, there was the one who instigated it.

Yes. Him. The shepherd.

_Damn that man_.

Light's hands tightened into fists against the floor. That son of a bitch. How dare he.

He had made her feel. That was easily the chief offense on his head as far as she cared, but there was still much more to it than just that. He had made her feel vulnerable, and it was terrifying. But she only realized that sense of exposure after he had gone, not at all as the corded muscles of his arm cinched around her so...possessively. What on earth had been going through his mind for his grip to be so tenacious? Part of her wanted to blame it on some savage lust, something every man was guilty of, nothing special. But then there was that other idea, the more quiet notion that it hadn't been just a primitive's desire to have a woman.

She wouldn't allow her thoughts to go there though. That was off limits.

The only thing she was willing to admit, even openly to an extent, was that there was something very different about the shepherd that night. Something about him she hadn't seen, or perhaps hadn't bothered to see before.

She had seen a _man. _Lightning had seen a man who remembered his pride for his people, his culture, even a little for himself. A man come to life, when he had been once so weary of an emptiness she could not fathom. A man who knew fear and joy like any other, but guarded them both for his own sake, so he wouldn't have to feel pain.

Why did that sound so damn familiar?

It had been in the shepherd's eyes that night, hidden in the crimson-gold glint of firelight. But never was it more apparent then when she had dared to lift the mask and reveal the one who had broken her fall. He had smiled at her, looking very please, even surprised. Had he ever smiled like that before in his entire life? If so, she'd never seen it in the months she'd known him. However, that wasn't the unsettling thing about it.

It was his reason behind such an expression.

Had it really been simply because...she was there?

Lightning felt her fists loosen, palms pressing to the floor as her fingers splayed apart. Then she gave a heavy sigh. None of this was making sense.

"Now _there's_ a look I've seen before."

Light snapped her head forward, eyes open and alert. That vigilance faded to displeasure when she found Fang in doorway. Had she left it open? Couldn't have.

"You need something?" she tipped her chin to the Oerban, then draped her arms across her drawn up knees. One hand went to her ear, gently pressing the earring. Something she'd done rather often lately.

"Nah, not really," Fang shook her head, arms crossed. "Just thought it was funny,"

"What?"

"Weren't we here a couple of months ago for the same problem? And here I find you again,"

Light lifted one eyebrow to a sharp point. "What makes you think I'm having problems?"

"For gods' sakes, do we really need a repeat? While I'm all for another chance to shake ya a bit, I really would rather you just come out and say it."

"There's nothing wrong."

"You are such a bad liar," Fang laughed a little.

"So? What business is it of yours anyway?"

"That's awful cold of ya. Here I thought we were family. I was just thinkin' maybe if there was something going on you could-,"

"Look, nothing happened; he kissed me and then he left."

Interruption notwithstanding, Fang paused mid-sentence, mouth ajar, but now her eyebrows climbed towards her hairline. A smirk curled the corner of her mouth when she noticed the sudden change in Lightning's expression, like she hadn't meant to say that.

"So it's true then? Here I thought it was just a rumor."

Mortified, Lightning's cheeks reddened. "W-what? What rumor? What did you hear?"

"Plenty, and that was just now."

"I mean," Light shook her head, getting her thoughts in order again. "Who told you?"

"I heard about it from Snow," Fang was trying so hard not to laugh, because if she started she wouldn't be able to stop. "He heard it from Serah."

"And who told her?"

"I'll let ya guess."

Confusion, terror, and fury was a strange combination to share a face. She stood up, hands fists by her sides. "Who?"

"Sheesh, you're no fun. But think about it," Fang tapped her own temple with one finger. "Who'd be up that late and able to see you without bein' seen?"

Light's eyes widened and she took a deep breath, holding it in a moment. Then she let it go, grumbling as she pushed passed her friend. "I hate vampires."

"So did he slip ya any tongue, sunshine?" Fang called down the hallway, the only response to her question being a middle finger in the air. She snickered.

The former soldier would not find Raul at the clerk's station where she was expecting to. Eugene mentioned his having gone outside but moments ago, so that was her next destination. The double doors of the Center's entrance flew open, Lightning taking two resolute steps out and her head snapping left and right. Where the hell was he? When she couldn't spot him right away, she went on the hunt, stalking between the numerous dwellings like a hungry predator.

She would find him in time, lounging in the shade of one of the dwellings with Kibo perched on his shoulder. The raven squawked and warbled as it lunged at the piece of fruit in his master's hand, demanding a piece of it and not patient enough to wait. Raul hurriedly cut a portion of it with his claw and handed it to the bird. Then he took a bite himself. That was when he spotted Lightning taking determined strides towards him. As she stopped only steps away, her arms crossed and her expression less than pleased, he tried to pull the apple from his mouth. Though it had been wedged tight by the point of his fangs, he clumsily pulled it free, leaving chunks of it in his mouth that he had to struggle a bit to swallow.

"M-Miss Lightning," he stammered, wiping his mouth on his arm. "What a nice surprise. What can I do for you?" though he fathomed it wouldn't be a good thing judging how hard her brow creased as she stared holes into him.

"Why were you spying on me?"

Raul's eyebrows hiked high, the slits of his eyes narrowing. "Oh, that. Well...I wasn't spying on you _per say_, I just happened by and saw...things."

"Then why did you have to go and tell everyone about it?" Light's scowl deepened.

Raul swallowed hard. "I didn't tell _everyone_, just Miss Serah. It's not my fault your brother-in-law can't shut up."

_Sweet gods I'm going to kill him_. She felt her hand clench against the crook of her elbow. "Why did you have to say anything at all? It's nobody's business but mine."

"Well, to be completely honest, I was simply confirming what all of us were suspecting."

"Pardon?"

Raul smiled, turning his head a way a moment to hide a small laugh behind his hand.

"What? There's nothing going on!" she protested.

"Oh?" his tone was knowing and yet curious at the same time. And under the guise of curiosity he willingly listened as Lightning went into an unprovoked tirade of how everyone's suspicions were pure doo-doo.

We're too different.

We have nothing in common.

He's old enough to be my father.

The man's just a lonely, old hermit.

I like his dog more than I like him.

These were the most prevalent reasons among at least a dozen others, and she listed them all while pacing and seemingly manic in her protest. Raul watched, still eating the apple at a casual pace, occasionally passing another piece to Kibo. And when she finished, standing before him with a look of expectation, his only response came as thus.

"So tell me, were you trying to convince me...or yourself?"

"What?"

"You protest so much that it sounds like you're arguing with yourself."

"I'm not in denial."

"Did I say you were in denial? No, although I certainly suspected it. But why are you so upset? Isn't this a good thing? Even for someone as seemingly asexual as you can appreciate the infatuation of another, can't you?"

"_Asexual_?" Those were fighting words.

"What? It's just you have always appeared so...indifferent. Don't make such a face." Raul adjusted, one hand supporting his weight as he leaned forward. "But honestly, what on earth could you stand to lose?"

She didn't answer, though it would've been easy to. She stood to lose a lot, another someone in her life to have for a moment and then they disappear. It wasn't worth it.

"Personally, I think you're both being stubborn asses. And if Han were here I would tell him this as well. I fail to see why you two waste so much time just thinking it over when it is so clear to everyone else what is happening."

"Again, it's no one else's business."

"It is when you go about like a bull with a sore tooth. You don't think we've noticed? You're sister had become very concerned, and that is the only reason I said a word about it. I may be a bartender, but I'm not a gossip monger. For saints' sake, you mortals can be so...pig-headed."

"How do you figure?"

"Your lives are so short, yet you piss it away with inaction."

"Tch," Light sniffed. "What would you know about it? You go on and on about our short lives, and you're what?"

"Three hundred and eleven next month. But I fail to see how my age makes me inappropriate for this matter. Do you have any idea how many friends I've lost, just in my lifetime? How many loves I have been forced to let go?" his tone had become more severe, pointed as his brow lowered over his slitted eyes. He was decidedly more serious now. "I was a little more than eighty when I fell in love for the first time, and I was eighty five when she was taken from me. It wouldn't be until I was a quarter passed a hundred that I would fall in love again. In between that I lost my father, the mother I never knew, and countless companions I had learned to love like family. Now tell me again how ill-suited I am to council you."

Not that she could. The words were stuck in her mind, where they belong, as they had no proper place otherwise. For a long moment their gazes met and held fast, but Lightning broke away when the humility settled it. She was foolish to assume anything.

"Now, if you want my advice, which I would imagine you _do_ else you would've left by now, I would suggest you go and speak to him. It couldn't hurt either of you."

Lightning huffed and crossed her arms again, her eyes still on the grass. Part of her did, in fact, want to leave and forget this ever happened. But for some unknown reason, her better judgment was winning out with the notion to stay.

"You're scared, aren't you?" he took the chance to ask.

Her eyes snapped to him, her face tightening with a mild scowl. "Of what?"

"Of losing. Am I right?" he smirked a little, sensing the truth. "You don't want to be alone, but you're afraid of getting attached, of having to one day let go. How close am I?"

Light was beginning to wonder if Raul and Fang had been spending more time together than she thought. He was getting good at this game, reading her mind.

"Though I wouldn't feel so bad about it, I feel as though Teh'Han is the same way." and he knew that from the moment he had seen the shepherd, the lines around his eyes being more than enough to tell the vampire what the mortal had been through. "Neither of you want to be vulnerable. Well, as natural as that may be, it isn't all too helpful in these matters. I suggest you push it aside."

She laughed. A curt, breathy sound. "You make it sound so simple."

"You make it sound like it has to be complicated." he countered. "You've seemed to me like a very capable woman, able to choose your path and walk it without delay. Why can't that apply here?"

"It isn't that easy."

"Well no, nothing worth the while ever is. That doesn't make it any less worth the time, does it? Maybe you could consider, for a change, what you could gain instead of what you stand to lose."

She looked at him, curious and slightly surprised.

"Listen," Raul sighed, deciphering her expression only just so. "I have seen men die young, in their thirties perhaps, doing what they love. But I have also seen those miserable souls that live long into their winter years without taking two steps out of their front door. After all is said and done, it's about what you choose to do. So...which would you rather be?"

If there was one thing Lightning hated more than emotions she wasn't familiar with, it was people who were perfectly right in their argument against her. Gods be damned.

"At the very least, the two of you need to talk this out,"

"All right, all right," she relented, hands up in the air with surrender. "I'll go, _Jesus_."

Raul nodded, watching as she turned sharp on her heels and started on. Then he thought of something.

"Was he a good kisser?" he winced when she snapped her head around, her expression furious. "I'm just curious."

But he would receive no answer, nor the beating he was expecting to get if he pressed any further.

Lightning headed for the stables, her mind buzzing with all the things that could possibly happen, all the things she might have to say.

_(-)_

Han sat at the dinning table, his pipe between his teeth and Gurthang at his feet, a pile of loose tufts of wool before him. He was still trying to decide what to do with it, to either make a blanket or small stuffed toy for the baby. Had he not been so occupied with other things and thoughts he probably would've gotten started on _something_ by now. He just couldn't focus for more than a minute, his thoughts slipping away from him without fail shortly thereafter. And it was always to the same place, to the same face.

Damn it all, why did he have to be so foolish? Why couldn't he just accept...

Because, for reasons he couldn't comprehend, his heart wouldn't let him give up. It wouldn't let him surrender that tiny spark of hope of there being even the slightest chance that she might...

No, she wouldn't.

But maybe, just maybe...

No, no. No maybe, no perhaps. It wasn't going to happen. It was something he wanted, and therefore would never have. Most certainly couldn't keep.

So why couldn't he forget about it, just bury his head in the sand as always until it went away? Why wouldn't his chest stop burning, marking the hand prints that had once smudged the red paint there? And why, oh gods why, did he feel so empty, his embrace vacant?

Why on earth did he allow himself to fall in love again in the first place? He should have known better by now. After all this time, it wasn't like things had changed. He was still cursed, and Lightning still felt nothing for him. Nothing more than an uneasy sense of friendship.

Han couldn't forget the look on her face as he left her dwelling that night, the redness in her cheeks, what he thought to be abject horror. He had disgusted her, though the idea failed to surprise him. How could he possibly come close to being what she wanted in a man. Even if she wanted men to begin with. That thought was the most brief of them all. In any case, there appeared to be no room in her heart for him.

But he could accept that, sure enough. He would just need some time.

Gurthang's ears fluttered, his head lifting suddenly with a curious grumble. Han didn't appear to notice, even as the pooch stood and padded across the room to the door. He sniffed the doorknob, pawed the floor, and still his master was not aware. Han didn't even move from his hunched position with his head in his hand until there was a series of pounding knocks on his door.

"Han? It's Lightning, I want to talk to you."

Han's entire body tensed. He was certainly hoping for more time than that!

"You home?"

_Maybe if I just stay quiet, she'll think I'm not here._

Can't help but wonder, but how do you say "dumb ass" in Pulsian?

He puffed his pipe furiously, anxious, waiting for the banging on his door to stop. When it did he held his breath, exhaling with smoke when it stayed quiet. But only for a moment.

Unfortunately for him, Light was far from being in the mood to deal with this kind of crap. Han forgot all of his anxiety when she put her boot to the door and broke it once again, much like their first meeting. He felt himself deflate as wooden slivers hit the floor, Gurthang running for cover.

"Again? Really?"

"You could've just answered me." she strode in, clearly peeved about something.

"Please, come in, make yourself at home." though it was far too late for that, thus the tone of powerless sarcasm. "What can I do for you?"

Lightning came to stand beside the table, arms crossing as she came to a stop. "I want to talk."

"So you said. What of?"

"The other night."

Of course, what else could she possibly want? His face tightened, his brow darkening his already dusky eyes. "What about it?"

"I would like an explanation." she said matter-of-factly. "If you've got one."

He had one, but he wasn't going to say it. Maybe if he played the lie again...

"Just an old man being foolish is all." he shook his head. "Nothing more."

Bullshit, and the disbelief was evident on her face. But he didn't see, he wouldn't look her in the eye. Though he could feel her stabbing gaze.

"What, were expecting me to say something else?"

"I don't know," and that was true, she hadn't a clue what to expect. This was an entirely new realm for her. Still, she was going to push forward. Whatever it took to understand these emotions coursing through her. Understand, then reign in, and force them into line with all the others. Like a good soldier.

"You've never had trouble being straight with me before."

"Hm." he nodded. "And I'm not now?"

"Doesn't seem like it."

"It isn't as though I have anything to lie about, any reason to," this time Han shook his head. "I'm telling you as it is."

"Okay." she nodded, her tone softened. "Look at me and say that."

Han tensed again. He couldn't comply with that order. Lying was hard enough, but not to her face. He simply couldn't. His hand clenched slowly into a fist atop the table, and his eyes screwed shut. He gathered his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, admitting his disability with silence.

"So where's the lie?"

Though her voice was hushed, nigh on a whisper, it shook him as if she had been screaming. He bit harder onto his lip, threatening to draw blood. All the while Lightning watched him from where she stood, saw how he struggled. Clearly there were plenty of things he wasn't coming forward with.

"Could you at least-,"

"I'm doing it for your own sake, woman!" he slammed his fist on the table, tufts of wool tumbling to the floor. "Why do you press?"

She met his outburst head on. "Because I'll be damned if I let you get away with what you did without an explanation." she could barely repeat it, say what he did exactly. That means she would have to fully accept it happened at all. She wasn't ready to do that yet, not until she knew why.

Han wanted to tell her, gods knew he did, but couldn't. Wouldn't. He could almost feel those spiteful deities looming above him, waiting for him to utter the words that they would soon enough hurl back down on his head. The frustration mounted, resulting in his suddenly standing up and tossing the chair aside. He stalked to the hearth, leaning up against it as if the cold stone could offer some relief to the hot turmoil roiling through him.

Light hadn't expected such a tantrum. Though she didn't move, even flinch as the chair crashed to the floor, she looked down at the discarded piece of furniture with surprise.

Han took a deep breath, calming himself. He'd started to shake. "I was being stupid. That's all."

"That's not an explanation. That's an excuse." she replied.

"What more do you want?" and the question was more akin to a desperate plea. Begging for mercy.

"The truth."

She was standing right behind him, he could almost feel her breath hot against his bare back. He tensed once more. "I can't." he forced out at last.

"Why not? Because of some superstition?"

"It isn't superstition!" he turned on her, his expression furious. "You know it isn't, not to me! Otherwise I would tell you everything you want to know."

"So lying to me let's you sleep better at night? Makes everything okay?"

"No," his fury crumbled to despair, and he turned away again with his forehead in his palm. "It doesn't. But its better than...than..."

"Than what?"

"...Losing you." it weaseled out of his mouth almost too quiet to catch. His throat was so tight now. "A thousand lies, and never knowing...it would be better than to have it all for just a moment, and then it be gone again in the blink of an eye."

Lightning felt her heart hitch, alongside the need to scowl at a sudden realization. The vampire had been right after all. Both of them were terrified, trying to cope with their denial in spite of what they wanted. All because they didn't want to face the pain; he didn't want to hurt others, she simply didn't want to hurt again. Yet neither of them wanted to be alone.

Han explained himself in the same manner she did. Stay distant, shove it away, better to never love than to love and lose it. Loss hurts too much.

But had she accepted that? Had she come to terms with the idea that this Pulsian sava..._man_, had fallen in love with her? But why? How could that have happened when she'd been such a colossal bitch? Was it her resemblance to his wife?

Whatever the case, what to do about it? Would she shove it away, or...maybe something could come of it just letting things run their course? What if, just _what if_, she reached out instead of shutting down? Where would that take her? Light's curiosity was starting to get the better of her.

This was undiscovered country after all. Gods knew what secrets were privy to those who took the chance and plunged into the darkness of it.

"Han,"

A shiver ran up his back, then scattered to send goosebumps up and down his flesh with the weight of her palm against his shoulder. The sound of his name, so soft on her voice, was enough to weaken his knees.

"We've been nothing if not honest with one another, never mind how...uneasy our friendship has been."

He felt her tug on him, pulling him to face her. He hadn't the strength to resist, though his eyes were trained on the floor.

"Even when you've lied to me...I guess, looking back on it...you did it for safety's sake." how she was so calm saying all this, when her heart was pounding, was a mystery.

"Though selfishly at times." he bemoaned quietly.

"That's beside the point. Still," she took a breath, a moment to think about her next words. Weighing the possible consequences. "If you can't tell me...then show me."

Han took a step back, his face still despairing but his eyes had widened. He started to shake his head, still resisting. "No, no, no," he said, "you don't know what you're asking for."

No, not really. She couldn't read his mind, and Light knew she was putting herself in a very vulnerable position by making such a request. Though there were times one needed to advance unprotected in order to gain sufficient ground. And she made that risky maneuver in a single stride towards him.

"No," he repeated, stepping to the side. "You need to leave." _Before we do something we'll both regret._

On pure reflex she grabbed his wrist, not allowing him another step in apparent retreat.

"What are you doing?" he pulled against her grip, surprised how secure it was, secure enough to hold fast to him.

"I want my explanation."

"As I said, I would tell you if I could." and he attempted once more to move, still unable to take more than half a step. "Woman," now his tone was cautionary, "you won't like what happens if you keep pushing."

Maybe, maybe not. There was no way of knowing until it happened. Maybe that's what this was all about; how far could they go? What would it feel like? Lightning was feeling vulnerable again, but also very powerful. Like this man, as big as he was, was at her mercy.

"I won't warn you again," and this time he ripped his arm free. He started walking towards the table, bending to pick up the toppled chair. Han pushed it back into place, lingering there and expecting to see Lightning walk passed him. Any second now she would leave and all this nonsense could end. His heart would stop pounding so hard and his palm would no longer be slick with sweat, and he could forget the lingering fire of her hand print on his shoulder and wrist.

Lightning wasn't going to leave, not until she got what she came for. But he didn't seem all too willing to give her that, as simple a request as it was. So what to do? Under typical circumstances, as with most interrogations, she'd resort to force. But that wasn't going to work very well here. Han would take any abuse she dished out and like it just to spite her. And she tried asking nicely, at least, as nicely as she could. What else could she try?

Would she dare to...

Han felt her hand on him again, just the fingertips, against his lower back. He shuddered, his hand atop the table just enough to keep him upright. He fought to breathe, openly panting. "Why? Why won't you just leave it be?"

"Because I have to know." her breath was hot on his flesh, she felt the muscles beneath her fingers clench. They were but inches apart. "I have to understand." and it was true, she needed to know what was going through his mind. Maybe that would help to decipher all of the things going through her own.

"But," he choked on his words. "But it can't...you _can't_ want this." That is, if she was considering what he thought she was considering.

"Why not?"

"Because I..." _Because it's what _I_ want._ And he wanted it terribly. He wanted everything, but not if they came to share such a great desire. Deep down he knew he would strive to give her anything she wanted, all she need do was ask. If she asked for..._that_, he wouldn't be able to deny her. He began to wonder, albeit briefly, where this sudden and absolute devotion came from.

She pressed her palm to his back, feeling the muscles bulge beneath her touch. "Say it."

Gods be damned. "_Yes_," he gasped, "I want it too."

Something snapped. There were no more barriers somehow, and Han felt like he had lost some sort of battle. He'd failed to keep himself under control. It was too late now.

Han turned towards her, arm curling like it had that night, and it tightened, pulling her flush against his body. His lips found hers so easily, as unsteady as they were, and he pressed with a deep hunger to taste her. His fingers curled into her side, feeling the fabric of her abbreviated turtleneck and the soft warmth of skin. Han took in her scent with a deep, manic breath. Gun oil and sweat.

Light didn't fight him, though his sudden actions surprised her. The heat was back again, from top to bottom and centering in her chest just as it had before. Her body burned in his grasp, but it was so...beautiful. There was no fear, only some alien desire to have more. More of...whatever this was. Her palms slid up his chest until her arms bent around his neck. And it was a firm hold.

Han felt like he was on the verge of falling, the way she was clinging to him unlike anything he'd ever known. Naya had never been this way. Hell, she had practically raped him on their wedding night, but that was normal. This was not. This was foreign, unusual, terrifying...and he wanted more of it. He had always been the submissive one, that's what his upbringing dictated, but not here. There was some equality here. Part of him wasn't entirely sure what to do with it, but was very eager to find out.

"Hold on to me," he managed to growl between heavy, frantic kisses. His hand clutched her backside and lifted, bringing her higher against him as he turned, depositing her on the table. The legs squeaked across the floor. Han groaned deep in his chest as her legs bent around him, her ankles locking, the heels of her boots digging in with lusty temerity.

_Sweet gods_. His eyes threatened to roll back as he settled between her legs. Out of instinct he leaned into her, his hand keeping his weight. Light caught his bottom lip between her teeth and nipped. He groaned again. He forced his tongue passed her lips, tasting deep, and his body trembled with the sounds she made. Sounds he recognized as pleasurable.

Jesus Christ, was it like this for everyone? Lightning had to wonder, did everyone experience this...this desperate flight, this wild struggle to manage your senses but failing miserably and not giving a damn? And this tightening in the very core of her, was this what everyone went on about? She had been missing _this_? Good gods, what had she been thinking? Her arms unwound from his neck and eased around his chest, her fingers pointing into his shoulder blades as his tongue invaded her mouth and dragging downward. It would leave welts. And here she thought she would never care to kiss a man with a beard. The bristled scratching wasn't so bad.

"Touch me," she whispered against his mouth, "it's okay."

The first thing she felt was the heat of his palm on her back, the slickness of it as it drifted upward towards the hem of her shirt and easing beneath it. His hips surged against hers, feeding the tightness she felt at the apex of her thighs. She almost begged him to do it again.

Through the red haze Han could barely think. All he could decipher were his feelings, his instincts, and a profound humility in that he felt unworthy of this. He wasn't good enough, she deserved better...yet here she was. And she was...she wanted him to touch her, even said so. How could his fortune have changed so drastically without his knowing? His palm sank from her back to her hip, resting there but a moment, as if to gather courage before sliding to fan across her toned stomach. He felt something hard against his thumb, distracting him enough to dip his chin and have a look.

"Heavens," he gaped. He'd never seen a woman with such a decoration as that. A navel piercing?

Light leaned back slightly, looking up at him. "You don't approve?"

"It's not that, no," he shook his head. "Just different." And that was the end of the diversion. Back to sucking face.

Light leaned back a little further, his hand moving higher over her belly. His fingertips found the end of the scar there, the tenderness making her wince in caution. He only caressed it momentarily with the pad of his thumb, his hand still ascending. Han chanced to let his hand curl over one concealed breast, mostly curious to her reaction. A breathy grunt, a high hitching of breath was her response, one of her hands finding his ponytail and tugging on it. The pinch sent a spark down his back, something he was surprised to find that he liked. He could feel a hardened nipple through her clothes, and that only served to spur his own desire.

Han curled his hand along the side bend of her throat, his thumb just beneath her chin and his palm over the pulse in her neck. It was quick and heated, just like his own. Upward still he went until he cradled her jaw in his hand.

"Don't stop," she panted.

There was no way he could.

His fingertips ghosted downward, easing over the small dimples that remained of the snake bite, to find the zipper at the collar. He gripped it tentatively, expecting her to repulse him should he go any further. But she did no such thing, even as he began to pull it slowly down.

Light shivered at the cool air settling over her heated skin, the zipper completely undone and the sides of her top pulled apart.

"My gods," Han pulled away from her lips for but a moment to breathe. "You're so beautiful."

From there his kisses began to descend, Light dipping her head back as he blessed her throat with light touches of his lips. He retraced the path his hand had taken prior, even passed the dip of her collar bone to the center of her chest. Her hands clutched in his hair when he veered off center, his mouth closing around a now exposed, rosy peak.

Light pulled him close, her body bowing against his as sensation rampaged across every nerve. She felt the threat of a black out. His tongue, his lips, who'd have known they could do that! She groaned, mouth open, not caring if anyone heard. Her face was hot, her cheeks surely red. That heat spread all through her. She fought to capture her next breath, and the fever did anything but ease as he pulled away, only to give the other breast the same attention. He grunted loudly as her grip in his hair tightened, pulling almost too hard.

She thought to kill him when he stopped, straightening, his eyes half lidded with something she couldn't describe. It even shimmered in his argent gaze. That something that was driving them further towards the brink. Light lifted towards him, shrugging the shirt down her arms and letting it fall to the table. She pressed herself against him, kissing the center of his chest, unable to stand the absence of his warmth for too long.

Han swallowed hard, thinking he enjoyed the touch of her lips elsewhere too much. All of this was just too much. It couldn't be real...it couldn't be right.

"What are we doing?" he breathed, seeming to fret.

Lightning didn't meet his gaze, though she could feel it bearing down on her. "Just shut up and go with it." And she kissed his stomach, mindful of how it rose and fell with his deep breaths.

His hand found her jaw again and tipped up her chin, his lips searching for hers, begging. She met him, bold, her tongue forcing passed the weak resistance he presented. Her hands snaked about his waist, fumbling with the knot that kept the wrap in place. Han felt it tumble to the ground, pooling about his feet. He shivered, knowing she felt the vibration of his entire body. He felt her body stretch upward, matching him, her breasts pressing to his chest. She pulled him down by the neck, wanting him closer but seemingly unknowing as to how to do that.

Han's hand rested atop one of her thighs, pushing upward. She bit his lip when he found the crease where her hip and thigh met, and delved deeper still. His thick fingers found her center and _pressed_. Instinctive, knowing, yet testing. Her breath caught in her throat, curt whimpers jumping from her to him. Her hips rolled against his hand, encouraging, his palm finally settling over the entirety of her heat.

"You want this?" his voice rumbled.

She could only nod into his shoulder, unable to speak. She was lost, awash in this...this lust.

He found a belt, undid it, a zipper, pulling it down. He pushed cloth aside, leaving but a single article between them. She still had her boots on for crying out loud. But that didn't seem to register to him, wouldn't until he was jarred by the heavy thud of leather soles striking the floor.

Han continued to touch her there, his fingertips easing over the concealed warmth, pressing into it just right. Her body jerked against him, her mouth moving but no comprehensible speech forming. Like she was lost in a fever, her brow furrowed tightly in the middle, her eyes shut, and her face red and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. Was she...could it be she liked this?

"Tell me what you want." he said, kissing her temple. "Anything, just say it."

"S-stop teasing me." and her answer was immediate, though staggered. Light needed to see how much farther they would go, how much farther he would be willing to take her. She just _had to know_.

"Then hold on." and he could feel her tense around him, doing just as he asked as he began to lift her up once again.

Light felt and heard the groan of leather all around her as Han gently placed her on the soft cushions of the sofa. Though he did not join her there as she had expected, there was even room for him. Instead he knelt beside her on the floor, easing in for another kiss. While she was distracted, her hands in his hair once more, his hand worked down past her glinting navel and beneath the hem of the last barrier. She bit his lip again when his fingers pressed into her center unhindered.

Hot, wet, seemingly ready, that's what Han found with his inquisitive fingertips. Though he stilled a moment when Light's teeth pinched his lip, not wanting her to draw blood. He pulled free of it before he began again, a shiver running through him at the way she writhed and whimpered at his touch. He never would have imagined such behavior from her, but seeing was believing.

He touched all the right places, in all the right ways, not too gentle or too eager. And his tongue carefully laved the reddened tip of one breast. It served to wind that tension in her core that much tighter, on the verge of breaking. But she wanted it. Lightning wanted it to break, to know what it would feel like. If it was anything like the build, she had to wonder if the apex would kill her. Mind you it didn't, but she thought it would be a hell of a way to go. And somewhere, among her delirium, he had pulled that last article down her legs, ultimately tossing it to the floor.

It didn't take long for Han to bring her to climax. Her nails bit into his scalp and neck, her body tensing, her cries restrained. And then she fell lax, panting, flushed and languid from head to toe. He looked at her face, humbled by her beauty and smirking in a slightly smug way.

"First time?" he was genuinely curious about that, but he asked as gently as he could.

She shook her head, still seeming dazed. "No. But it's been a long while."

"I see." he nodded. Han waited a moment before seeking her kiss once again, and as she held him with both hands on either cheek, he eased his body over hers, nestling between her legs. Lightning gasped at the feeling of his heated member against her stomach. His hand eased over her, hooking the knee of one leg to lift it and lay it against his empty shoulder. He leaned forward, supporting himself mostly on his arm, but finding some in her as well.

"Whatever you want, whatever pleases you," he said, looking into her eyes, "you will have it."

Did she even know what she wanted? What _pleased_ her?

Lightning looked back at him, and it was odd. It was like seeing him for the first time, only now she didn't see the old hermit who was so cold. She saw a man who knew and could show...love; an emotion she once thought beyond his supposedly primitive understanding. It was a rare occurrence, but Lightning was glad to be proven wrong.

She had no response to his declaration, only reaching for him to draw him down, to let him follow through with it.

It was a heated and nigh on violent affair. Scratching nails, near biting, the shattering cries of ecstasy, the release of frustration that had been long since mounting. Bodies blurred in the throws of carnal desire. It was wild, passionate, total abandon. Almost wrong.

But it felt so very, very right. Like the planets aligning. Like it was preordained by some higher power.

When it ended, the two of them struggling to breath and tangled together, there was no apparent hurry to move. They were content to lay there for a moment yet, facing each other with Lightning's leg still hooked over his waist and his large hand curled around the swell of her backside. They continued to kiss even now, tired and spent, but with much less fervor than earlier. They were kisses meant to savor, to reassure, to reinforce a sense of comfort.

When the afterglow began to fade, Han was the first to move. He bid she hold on to him one last time, and he lifted her from the sofa. With his arm beneath her knees and her arms about his neck he carried her to the cot, the bed he had never slept in, and helped her beneath the blanket before easing in behind her. The metal frame creaked.

Lightning could feel sleep creeping up on her already, her eyelids heavy and threatening to close on their own. She could feel him surround her, his heavy arm over her waist, his warmth enveloping her.

_I never want to sleep alone again_.

It was her last waking thought.

Author's Note: I hope this didn't turn out to be the steaming pile I feel like it did. I think that last love scene is total crap, nothing but corn and soap opera sap. In any case, the next chapter will be it, and I say this with the utmost certainty. The epilogue will close all the cases, bring everything full circle to the best of my ability. And keep your eyes peeled as I will have the date for the Live Discussion on Tiny Chat in the authors' note at the end. Again, hope to see you there. Now I need to illustrate this...yay.


	49. Epilogue

**Blood Tithe**

**Epilogue**

What time was it? Did it really matter? No, not entirely.

Lightning drifted into awareness feeling her body tightly curled, chilled though covered to the chin in a blanket. Blindly she reached back, finding space behind her in the bed. Unsteadily she lifted herself to her elbows, half turning, finding the bed empty aside from herself. She grumbled, rubbing her eyes. She looked around, the house empty. Not even Gurthang was anywhere to be seen. Her conscience started to whine, to nag her. Like she should have expected to wake up alone. It was trying to make her feel stupid, like what happened shouldn't have. Not that it mattered at this point, a little too late for hindsight.

Lightning sat up, stretching with her arms over her head, and she shifted to sit on the edge of the cot, the blanket in her fist and pressed between her breasts. She scratched her head, ran her fingers through her mussed hair and took a deep breath. The floor was cold on her bare feet.

Her mind lingered on it, analyzed it all nearly to death. Her and Han had fucked, to put it simply, and she was having a hard time feeling bad about. She had expected to though, to be honest. She had expected to feel sullied in a way, weak for having let herself go in such a manner. But it wasn't holding water. She had enjoyed it. Lightning had taken the chance at vulnerability and it had paid off in spades. Physically she was very pleased, yet there was some emotional uncertainty.

What in all would this mean? What had changed? Were they a...thing now? Or would all of this end up as a one time engagement? Maybe now that the incredible tension between them had passed they could go back to their normal routine of uncomfortably ignoring each other. But did she want that? Could she stand to go another night without a warm body surrounding her while she slept? There was a security in that feeling that she had never expected, but knew she needed now. That was nigh on terrifying. Lightning Farron _needed_ someone. Gods.

Light had been so convinced that all she needed to thrive was purpose, someone to need her. And while that remained unchanged, there was a new dimension to it now. How would she cope?

_Whatever you want, whatever pleases you...you will have it_.

Light felt a shiver hum through her skin, his voice frolicking in her head. Funny, she thought, she'd never lingered on a man like this before. Not even the one she lay with first of all, back when she was young and stupid. After she'd come out of the first coma, been released from physical therapy, the funeral, Lightning was convinced life was just too short. Enjoy it while you can was her personal mantra, and she let it show. Late nights out, parties with people she shouldn't have been hanging out with, drinking, the belly ring...oh god, those days were a hot mess. It had been meaningless, just some boy she'd met only days before, both of them drunk and stumbling into a darkened bedroom at someone's house. She couldn't even remember much of it, only that she didn't climax, and the morning after she left as soon as she was dressed.

She'd returned home that morning to find Serah curled up on the couch, asleep, clutching the phone in her hand. She had waited up all night, probably scared to death. Somehow that made something click in Lightning's head, and after that she straightened up, got her act together, and a few years later enlisted.

It had been meaningless then, and she hadn't seen that kid's face since. She couldn't even remember his name. Thinking back on it, having never felt guilt over it before, Light felt a certain something, a quiet wish that she had waited. Still, that was then, this was now. Han certainly hadn't cared that she wasn't a virgin, so why should she give it more than a passing thought either?

The door hinges squealed and light flooded the room. She turned towards it, seeing Han coming through the door. He looked a little flushed, something dripping from his hand.

"Oh, you're up. Did I wake you?"

"No." she shook her head. "Everything okay?"

"Just fine. I didn't mean to leave you, but there was some commotion among the sheep, one of the ewes went into labor."

Light's brow vaulted. Fancy that. "And?"

"Twins, healthy and kicking." he was smiling, crossing the room in a slight hurry that he might clean himself up. "It's a good sign."

Lightning nodded, shifting to draw her legs up, crossing them. "What time is it?"

"Early evening," he replied casually, stepping down into the cellar. "We didn't sleep very long."

But it had been so deep, you would think it had lasted all night. She gathered the blanket tighter around her. Moments later Han emerged.

"Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?"

"No. Could use something to drink, though."

"Of course." he already had a vessel of cider in his hand, and he hurried to find a glass to put it in. Normally Light wouldn't care too much for being waited on, but this...it was tolerable. However the atypical spring in Han's step was unexpected. This had to be the happiest she'd ever seen him with his daughter not around.

In no time she had a full cup in her hands, taking a sip of it and feeling warm at the taste of spices and sweet fruit. Han joined her on the bed, sitting on the edge. The two sat in silence for a seemingly long while, a hint of tension in the air. Someone wanted to speak, but was having trouble. Maybe they couldn't find the confidence right away.

"I...I hope I didn't," Han began unsteadily, "I hope I didn't disappoint you."

"Hm? Oh." she took another sip. "You didn't."

"So...you enjoyed it?"

She nodded, unsure of how it would feel to come right and out speak her agreement. Part of her mind was still having trouble just accepting the fact that they had sex, never mind whether or not she liked it. Though it had been quite good. Han turned out to be a very attentive lover, seeming to give his full focus to every detail. Even her outlandish requests of "take it slow", or "not so rough" were met with immediate compliance. Light looked up from her cup to find remnants of welts on his forearm, knowing there were more on his sides and back. Welts _she_ had laid on him. She smirked.

"You'll have to forgive me for being...over-eager." Han wished he had two thumbs so he might twiddle them, feeling very self-conscious. It had been so long since he'd touched a woman, he had no excuses for his behavior, only apologies.

Light hid her smile behind the lip of her cup. "Am I complaining?"

He didn't answer, but turned his face so she wouldn't see the redness that had settled in his cheeks.

"So...what does this mean?"

Han cleared his throat, putting his palm to the back of his neck. "What do you want it to mean? Would it be best for you if we simply...put this aside and forgot about it?" A tiny voice in him prayed she wouldn't say yes.

"I don't know...what do you think?"

"I, for one," he took a steadying breath, gathering the words, "would like to see where it goes. But, then again, I've been alone so long...anything would be better than nothing."

She nodded, understanding. Funny how talking had become so much easier. Did sex always do that? The few married couples Lightning had met throughout her life always seemed to have some sort of...insight to one another, some special loop of communication only they were privy to. Had that happened here? Were they connected now in such a way?

"I won't lie," she said at last, tipping back the glass to drink the last of what was in it, "I'm curious to see what comes out of this. Whatever it is."

Han felt some of the tension in him ease. Then chuckled softly. "It's funny."

"What?"

"Considering where it all started...how we've come to be here. I still don't know how."

Light set the empty cup on the floor. "Yeah, smacking each other around is a great way to start a relationship." though thinking back, some of her closest friends had come about her company in the same manner.

"You started it, you hit me first." he clarified. "But you're still right. How on earth...what changed do you think?" and he looked at her, genuinely curious.

She pulled the blanket a little tighter. "I'm still trying to figure that out." It was really a small collection of things, mostly enlightenment in regards to the man he really was, not the one he tried his damnedest to be. He wanted everyone to see him as a coward, a nobody and a shut in. In reality, he was no different from anyone, with hopes and dreams and fears, a veiled nobility to his manner, and had courage in his heart at times to match ten men. Plus, as of a few nights ago, she realized, he was rather handsome.

Very similar but simpler things were going through Han's mind in that moment. He was trying to pinpoint the reasons, the things that changed his mind from wary distrust to this...devoted attraction. Could things really change so suddenly, going from barely speaking to making love? Was that possible? And most of all, could it last?

But the traits that drew him to her were easy to acknowledge as they weren't too far from what he was raised to appreciate in a woman. Strength of both will and body, the ability to lead and protect those that surrounded her. These were qualities he had been brought up to believe as ideal, but there was also a quiet gentility about her that fascinated him. Unlike Naya - physical resemblance notwithstanding - who had been so open, so free with her thoughts and feelings, Lightning kept very close to herself, leaving an air of mystery about her that he never realized he could admire. She kept him guessing in all the right ways, and did so without the slightest effort.

It humbled him, and he had to ask himself how he could possibly be worthy of even being in this woman's presence, much less be her lover.

"Maybe it'll come to us as we go." Light scratched her head again. She was starting to feel tired. It was late in the evening, she was warm and comfortable. That was the perfect recipe for bed time.

"So...you're okay with...continuing?"

"I guess. What have we got to lose, right?" and she gave him the smallest of reassuring grins as she shifted to lie down once more, gathering a pillow beneath her head.

Han felt like flying. He sat still for a short while, just trying to comprehend what was coursing through him. It was...it had to be joy, what else could it be? He didn't have to be alone anymore, there was a chance that he could have a life, he could have it all. It almost brought him to tears.

He would settle down after a while, though his stomach still felt infested with butterflies. Han stood, standing still and just looking down at her as she lay in his bed. Gods, what a beauty. What a blessing. How had he come to deserve it?

"Might...might I lay with you a while longer?" was his meek request.

"It's your bed." was her response, eyes still closed.

He pulled his wrap off, letting it hit the floor beside some of her clothes, and climbed onto the cot, settling along her back, his arm taking its previous place across her waist. His arm bent, flexed and drew her close. Silken strands pressed against his cheek and his lips fell to the firm swell of her shoulder.

Gods, there it was, that warmth she had been missing during his short absence. Light felt herself relax completely, content, without a care. She pulled her hand free from beneath the pillow to find his, lacing his thick, massive fingers with hers. She felt his body swell and deflate with a long sigh, a growl hinting in their somewhere. And they lay this way for a spell, not speaking, simply being together.

"I wish," he whispered, "I had the heart to tell you how I felt. Honest."

"It's all right." she said, turning her head. "You could always show me." and she knew exactly what she was asking for this time. A small, sneakier part of her had been planning on it. It still had curiosities about all of this, things it needed to know about the coupling they shared. It had to know how far it could go, how high, if it could be controlled. If she could control him at all.

She would find out, just like before.

"Is that a request?" Han smiled into her hair, taking in her scent. It was heating his blood, not that her innuendo hadn't already. His grip around her tightened, his mouth descended to her ear, his lips closing around the tender bend of it. He could feel her body tense.

"It's about to be an order." she answered, breathless. Light twisted suddenly, turning towards him and crushed his lips with hers. She needed that kiss, gods be damned.

Han thought to take it slower this time, ease it along unlike before. He thought he had everything under control, that is, until he found himself somehow on his back, Lightning straddling him. He looked up at her, his silvery eyes wide. She had taken his wrist with both hands and put it over his head, the weight of her entire body bearing down.

"I see where this is going." he almost smiled.

"What?" she gave him an almost feline look, something curious with a hint of sarcasm. "Don't women do this where you come from?"

"Oh they do." he nodded quickly. "In fact I was tied up on my wedding night, if that gives you any idea."

"Really?" she almost laughed. "Guess I have a lot to live up to. Although...would you object to that now?" she took a brief second to think it through, and remembered his stint in captivity. He might not like the idea of being bound again.

"Well...I trust you...I suppose." though he gave his consent warily.

"That's good to know."

Han swallowed as she eased away from him, suddenly fretting what he might have gotten himself into. In the end his hand was held fast to the frame of the bed with a belt that he could only assume came from Lightning's discarded clothing. It wasn't too tight, but snug enough to make him just a little nervous. Still, it didn't take away from his erection. He swallowed again as she stalked over him, her body stretching across his own, the heat of her naked skin scalding hot and wonderful. He gasped, choking on a groan. Lightning kissed him to soothe his ill-at-ease.

Perhaps the only thing he hated about this was his inability to touch her. His hand clenched frantically, demanding with the pop of his knuckles for release. Sweat was already starting to bead his forehead, his heart pounding and his skin hot.

Yes, Light mused to herself mentally with a small grin against his mouth. This is what she needed, she needed this control, this dominance. She knew now that she could step into this delicious temptation and not be ruled by it. Now all there was to discover was her limits. How long could she stand to keep him at bay, to gauge her own actions before being unable to stand the wait? The hard, heated length against her belly was starting to threaten her resolve as I speak, so she couldn't imagine what progress she could make.

Best to just go with it, see what happens when it comes.

Han fought to breathe as her palms pressed to his chest, her fingertips starting to trace the grooves of his muscles with the slightest scratch of her nails. She was straddling one leg now, which allowed his composure to remain for the time being. His eyes were screwed shut as he rode out the sensations of her touch.

She hadn't much of a chance to really look at him earlier, far too focused on the act itself at the time. Light wanted to take that chance now, and she relished the power she exerted over him. He was so helpless, it made her feel damn near divine. She found more scars doing this, small ones that were easy to miss. Nicks and cuts long since sealed on his stomach and sides. A long white stripe across one hip. She paused in curiosity at his thighs, finding small circular ones, several of them, on the tender inner bends on his legs.

"Where'd you get these?"

Han thought to lift his head, but felt her breath and knew what she was asking about. "Cigarette burns." he grunted, trying to keep himself steady under her scrutiny.

She moved on, thinking that would be a story for later, no need to bother themselves with that now. Light looked him over from head to toe, reveling in the sway she had on the brute. And her ego only surged when she straddled him once more, a loud moan wrenching from him, his body bowing upward. He fell back to the bed, gasping for air, and he opened his eyes. He was almost seeing double, nearly out of his mind. He tried focusing on the dim sparkle of the belly ring, the rest of her splendid form coming back into focus.

Her palms were on his chest again, she perching upon him almost victoriously.

"Must you tease?" he panted. "I'm an old man."

"Don't give me that crap." she smirked. She curled her nails into skin, his breath hissing through his teeth at the sweet pleasure-pain. Light bent forward, her hands managing her weight on either side of him as she forced his head to turn with the push of her cheek. The moistened tip of her tongue found the scar on his throat and she felt his breath still.

"You're being unfair." he protested weakly.

"Who said sex had to be fair?" and in that instant, when her eyes met his and he contemplated her sly expression, she rolled her hips and took him into her. They both exhaled slowly, a slight groan, heads tipped back and eyes closed as the connection was made.

"Is," Han struggled to speak, "is that all this is to you? Is th-that all you're here for?"

Her head rested against his chest, lifting and falling with his breaths. "No. It isn't." she lifted, straightening her back, eyes still closed. "I don't...I don't know the reason why, not yet, but it isn't just that."

That response seemed to satisfy him, as he didn't say another word about it. Even if he had something to say, it wouldn't have come out right, not when she began to move her body like she did. Up and down, hips rolling, and he could do nothing but lie there and take what she gave him. He pulled desperately against his restraints, wanting so badly to touch her. The frame of the bed creaked, leather straining with tension.

Sensation overwhelmed her, instincts taking control, and she let it happen. It felt too good to deny. Han filled her so completely, and more so than just physically. In that she found the real reason why she stayed, why she didn't just thank him for the fun times and go home. Han needed someone, that much was clear; by the same token, she needed to be needed by someone. She needed that sense of purpose to keep her going. In that sense, they were a flawless match, able to fulfill the other's innermost desires simply by being together.

But the sex was still good. So that certainly helped both cases.

Han watched her move, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. He could barely believe what he was seeing, doubly so for what he felt. It had to be a dream, it was too perfect not to be. His hips rose to meet her downward motions without him having to think about it, and the sensation of the collision was stuff of legends. People could write songs about things like this. The way she moved, the bounce of her pert breasts, the sweet tension around her eyes, the sounds she made, and the smirk that tugged the edge of her parted lips...gods she was so perfect.

Lightning bent over him, her hands firm on either side of his writhing form, and she pressed her heated forehead to his sweat dappled one. She knowingly kept her lips just out of reach, even as he fought her to have the kiss he decidedly craved. He swore at her, a word she didn't understand but still felt as harmless, and laughed quietly. At a glance she saw how the muscles in his arm tensed, bulged as he continued to resist. Maybe she would untie him, but not just yet. This power trip was...she couldn't let it go yet.

But Han couldn't wait for her generous mercy, he simply couldn't. The frame of the cot groaned one last pitiful time, and then the leather snapped. There was a _ping_ of metal on metal, then the chime of the buckle as his arm circled her. He held her tight, his large palm at the back of her head, forcing a soul-deep kiss that only grew hotter by degrees. He wouldn't let her go, even as she fought him he maintained their face-to-face stance. Eyes locked, taking her feverish cries into his mouth as his hips thrust hard and fast. Cerulean and silver, severe and enraptured, bodies blurring. Madness.

There was a rush, a flurry of movement, and Lightning gaped to find herself on her back. She didn't have a moment to think about it, to protest before Han began to move within her again. He pressed her knees to his chest, using them for support as he leaned forward. This gave his hand freedom enough to touch her anywhere he wished. Her nails found his forearm, digging deep as his length advanced and retreated, advanced and retreated. She was so close, he could tell. She had begun to breathe his name.

Light's head tossed back and forth against the pillow, her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from screaming. She wanted to, it was there, perched in her chest and ready to fly, but not yet.

"Han, please," she begged, her hands now fisting in the blanket instead of lacerating his arm.

"Patience," was his breathy reply, sweat rolling down his face and chest.

"_Now_," she ordered, desperate. Light snatched the base of his ponytail and pulled, his head snapping back, a groan ripping out of him. His pace quickened, his motions fierce, just as she wanted. She could feel all of his strength, body and soul, in every thrust he forced against her supple form. And it sent her higher, higher, higher still until..._bam_.

Han felt it, heard it, watched her come undone. Her breasts lifted, her back arching, her head pressed back into the pillow as she screamed. She clenched around him, vice-like and rippling. He couldn't stand it. He disengaged at the very last possible moment, standing and turning away, then kneeling as he could not stay upright. Leaning with his hand on the floor he tensed, groaning hard in his chest and sounding like an animal. He only stayed away long enough to gather himself back together, catch his breath, and then returned to the bed. To her.

"Let me hold you," he whispered as he pulled the blanket over them. He tucked a fold of it between them as he didn't much care for the stick of sweaty skin.

Light let him cradle her body against his, still panting and dizzy. The warmth eased through her, giving her contentment, the soft kissed along the back of her neck granting the comfort to sleep again. But she fought it this time. There was something she wanted to know, a curiosity she needed to sate first.

"I have a question." she said softly.

"Hm?"

Funny how her self consciousness chose now to rear its head, making it difficult for her to speak at first. "Why did you..." oh hell, just say it. "Why did you pull out?" She'd been curious about it since earlier, as he'd done something similar.

"Well," there was no hint of hesitation. "I didn't think you would be too keen to being saddled with a kid you didn't want. That, and we aren't married so it isn't really my privilege to...do that."

She nodded, slowly, curious as to why she couldn't figure that out on her own.

"There's more to it, though it isn't important."

"Tell me."

"It's nothing, just...tribal nonsense."

"I want to know." she pressed gently. If what he was referring to really was nothing, he wouldn't have brought it up.

Han was surprised to hear such investment in her voice, that much care. "It's...it's just that...well, when a woman allows a man to...it's like shaking hands to close a deal." it was the best way he knew how to describe it. "Doing that...the woman accepts the man as a lasting part of her life. Like marriage. I just...I didn't think you would want that, that you were ready. It's not you, it's just the way I was raised."

She nodded again, sighing after a moment and settling.

"Are you angry?"

"No. It's fine." and though he couldn't see it, she smiled. Then her eyes opened suddenly, another inquiry striking her. Funny how sex can manifest such clarity. "I've got another question."

"Anything."

"What does _Bah deh roh_ mean?" she just realized, in an instant, that she still had yet to hear the translation of that phrase. Though Fang had promised.

Han chuckled. "Oh that. It's part of an old saying, it's just a joke really."

"I get the feeling, though, that I'm the punchline."

"To put it simply, it means you're just cranky."

That couldn't be it. That wasn't nearly enough reason for people to laugh about. "What's the literal meaning?"

He laughed again, trying to keep it under control so he could speak. "'You need a man to pleasure you hard and deep.' That's it."

So all this time, Han, Fang, even Shilo, had been going on about her needing to get laid? Seriously? Well, that wasn't the worst of it.

All things considered, they were right.

But don't expect her to admit that aloud.

_(-)_

Time marched on, months passed, seasons changed. Summer dwindled into Autumn, and Autumn into the chills of Winter.

It was early, on that finite cusp of night and day when there wasn't a light in the sky other than stars. Most everyone was still asleep, curled up beneath multiple blankets and huddled together. _Most_ everyone.

Hope was barely aware, just waking when he felt the body beside him shifting. This wasn't out of the ordinary, so it didn't exactly hold his attention, not until he heard a tiny sound of discomfort, even pain. He forced himself into full awareness.

"Vanille?You okay?"

Another small groan. "I don't know. Everything hurts."

"Should I get Donovan?" but he didn't wait for answer. He got up in any case, switching on the light to find his coat and boots, and a flashlight, before stepping out into the cold night. Donovan's dwelling was only yards away, but he still hurried, his arms tight around himself as he shivered.

Hope didn't have to wait long for the good doctor to answer the pounding he forced against his door, even less for Donovan to ready himself to follow the younger man back to his dwelling. Beth in tow. Upon their return they found Vanille on the floor, inches from the bed, one hand on the metal frame and the other on her very swollen belly. There was a puddle on the floor.

Her water had just broken.

"Oh dear," Donovan breathed, but no less calm as he quickly crossed the floor to gather Vanille into his arms. "Come along, everyone, there's a baby on the way."

Hope felt his stomach drop into his feet. Now? His heart started pounding and his mouth dried out.

"Easy there, darling," Beth had a hand on his shoulder. "She's in good hands, just go and fetch her sister, would you?"

He only nodded, stuck in a fearful stupor that only lasted but a moment before he went on his way.

It wasn't long at all before everyone of concern was up and had gathered at the Resource Center, many of them shivering and yawning, while others were on the balls of their feet with nerves. Hope was chewing on his fingernails, wincing as he was able to hear the pained cries of his wife from just outside the infirmary door. He paced, thumbnail between his teeth, frantic. Lightning and Han stood side by side, leaning back against the wall. Her arms were crossed with her fingers drumming against her arm, he had his arm tucked inside his wool shirt. They were quiet, still, but just as anxious as anyone else. Snow and Serah were there as well, and Bard, who stood, paced a little himself, pausing momentarily to tap his hoof. Fang was in the next room with Vanille, and the only one other than Donovan allowed inside.

Beth stood beside Raul, and looked up at the vampire when she sensed his tension. "Are you all right?"

"Hm?" one brow lifted to a point, the slits of his eyes flexing. "Oh yes, just fine. I'm very excited." he rocked on his heels and his clawed fingers fluttered at his elbows. He was very excited indeed. He was praying to all the saints and all the gods, and anything else he wasn't entirely sure existed. If all went well, he was going to witness a miracle, something that had never been seen before or likely ever again.

"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" Hope had taken just a moment from his pacing, his nail biting, to look at Beth like he were a lost puppy.

That was a hard question to answer. With things like these, you never knew, and it was bad enough with normal circumstances. This was a whole new ballgame.

After some thought, Beth smiled at him. "I'm sure she'll be all right."

In the infirmary, the tension in the air was so thick, you couldn't cut it with anything. Between Donovan and the colony doctor on the verge of bickering about what to do, and Vanille's miserable screams, and Fang trying to talk her though it all, it was a challenge to make heads or tails of anything. But on that same token, to offer some comfort, everything was going as it should. Obstetrically speaking.

"You're doing wonderful, deary," Donovan encouraged, sitting at the foot of the bed. The colony doctor finally relented charge to him, as he had by far more experience with child birthing. "Ready to push again?"

"No," Vanille sobbed pitifully. It had been hours now and she was so tired. The pain was enormous. "I can't do this,"

"Don't say that, yes you can," Fang held her hand, standing right beside her. "I know you can. Don't give up." and she winced at the terrible pressure Vanille put on her hand as another heavy contraction wracked her body. Fang pulled the sweaty ringlets of hair from her face.

Vanille was terrified. What if she really couldn't do it? She pushed again, screaming, the pain only intensifying.

"We're almost there," Donovan announced.

"Don't you quit," Fang repeated. "It's all going to be worth it. This baby's gonna be healthy, and strong, and beautiful," and then she smiled, "just like me."

"Gods, I hate you!" and there was a laugh somewhere in that pained sob.

"If that's what it takes. Now _push_, damn it!"

And push she did, thrice more before Donovan let out an ecstatic exclamation, not really a word but a sound of joy and pride. Then the room was filled the shrill, shrieking cries of new life. They could be heard from the hallway, causing everyone's head to snap-to.

Then they heard something else through the door, after the crying had faded.

"It's a boy."

They watched as Hope paled a little and them slumped to the floor onto his backside. It looked like he was trying to catch his breath.

"A boy," he panted.

"Welcome to the Dad Club, kid." Snow bent down beside him, a hand settling on his shoulder.

Inside, Vanille collapsed to the bed, sweat rolling down her face. She felt so frail, but still she feared. Any second now she would see her baby, and know the color of his hair.

_Gods please, don't let it be...don't let it be..._

Donovan brought the child over, swaddled in blankets but squirming. "What a lively little fellow," he marveled. He had started tearing.

There was some reluctance in her as she reached for the baby, Fang raising her hands just beneath her sister's, acting as a safety net.

The infant appeared very...normal, though it's skin was more pale than what was considered typical. The tips of the boy's ears had the slightest arch to them, coming to a dull point, but showed no other odd traits otherwise. At first glance, the unknowing would simply find him a perfectly human child.

And his hair matched that of his mother, as did his eyes.

Vanille held her child close, looking him over, eventually smiling. She calmed immediately, all fears put to rest.

"Gods, look at him," Fang was wiping her eyes, "he's beautiful."

"That he is." Donovan nodded, toweling off his hands. "Mayhaps the others could come and have a look? I know a certain young man who would appreciate it."

"Should we? I mean," Fang had her hands on her hips now, sporting a cocky smirk. "As pretty as this kid is we're gonna need a stick."

Vanille actually laughed a little. "It's okay." was her response.

As soon as the door was opened they just poured right in, lining up on either side of the bed hoping to catch a glimpse. Hope approached her first, and he had to vie for the position, and gave his wife an incredible kiss on the lips. He was already crying, red faced and puffy eyes as the salty beads rolled down his cheeks. I can't imagine having seen a happier man.

"He has your hair," Raul said, his tone curious. "Why does he have your hair?" and he pointed with one finger, his brow see-sawing over his eyes.

"What difference does it make?" Hope looked back at him.

"That's how they tell who the father is." Vanille answered.

"Gosh, I don't care," Hope shook his head, letting out a heavy breath. "It wouldn't matter...this is _my_ boy..._my_ son."

Raul nodded, grinning. He had the right idea. "I have another nephew it seems."

While that was true, in any case, Fang cut her eyes to him. "He's _my_ nephew first."

"And I won't fight you over that."

Everyone laughed, not a dry eye in the room to boot. Though Lightning hid it very well, she felt a slight burn in her eyes too.

"Do you have a name for him?" Beth asked, having squeezed into the gathered crowd somehow.

"I've been thinking," Vanille started, the fatigue very clear in her voice. "I want to name him Tavisen." and she looked up at Fang.

The elder Oerban wiped her eyes again. "That's dad's name."

"Is that okay?" Hope asked gently.

She sniffed, the tears becoming suddenly hard to fight. "Are ya daft? Of course it's okay. And here I was worried you'd give 'em some sissy name like...ya know."

"It's all right teh cry, darlin'." Bard assured her.

"Hush your yap, I'm not cryin', you're cryin'." and she punched his arm, not too hard though. But then she did exactly what she had just denied and openly shed joyous tears.

Eventually the birth certificate was filled out and filed, et cetera and all that, and many of them went back to bed. It was just after sunrise and everyone was still very tired. This left the young family alone in the infirmary, Hope having managed into the bed beside Vanille, and Tavisen on his mother's chest. Now fast asleep after his first feeding.

Although Fang remained. She pulled up a chair and kept watch, or at least that's what she told herself she was doing. Sitting quietly, arms crossed, her mind buzzed with numerous thoughts and curiosities. She couldn't help but wonder the obvious things one would. What kind of person would the boy be? Where would life take him? Then there were the not so obvious things. How much of his heritage would show in time? Would he have to feed like his kin to stay alive? Would he find his place in this world?

Things like that, for the most part, only time would answer.

Fang stood, leaning over the bed. The baby stirred, maybe sensing her presence. With great care she gathered up the infant, holding him close to her chest.

"Come here, little bugger," she whispered. He began to fuss. "Hush now, let's not wake your mum." Fang sat back down, rocking Tavisen with the gentle bounce of her arm.

He stilled when she settled, his pudgy face no longer scrunched with discontent. His eyes shimmered as he looked up at her, seeming to glow a little in the dimness, full of wonder. And he just stared.

"There we go, see? Not so bad." She smiled at him. "I know, kid, I know; I look funny now, but soon enough I'm gonna be your favorite aunt. We're gonna do all sorts of stuff together once you get old enough."

Tavisen, eyes still locked on her, reached with an unsteady limb and clutched the braid that lingered from behind her ear. He pulled, tugged it towards his mouth as babies often do to everything, but settled to simply hold it in the end with a curious burble.

"We'll take care of you, all of us." and that was a promise, whether the boy knew it or not. She eased to kiss the boy's forehead, emotion swelling in her chest when she felt his tiny hands on either of her cheeks, grasping as if to keep her close. As if he understood everything she'd said.

"_Han'tasa doh tah be'lan, sae_," she said, wondering briefly if he would ever come to speak their tongue, "_Tah eh teh't'iem, tim lor ta y'oaes tasa tiem_."

Translation?

Welcome to the world, little one. Though it is terrible, know that you are loved.

_(-)_

Now, I suppose, all things considered, it would be fair enough to discuss those whom we haven't addressed in some time. As every story has a beginning and an end, so does every life, and we have encountered a great many of those along this journey.

Let's take a moment to look in on those mischievous duo that were, by all rights, the cause of this hot mess.

Dash and Helm would never steal the rare portrait they had their eyes on during the last night of the Saints Festival. With that having failed, Dash finally convinced Helm to explore more appropriate revenue options. After a great deal of humming and hawing over a multitude of crappy ideas, something came upon them that was just silly enough to work. Their previous occupation imparted to them one inalienable truth...women's clothing in Arash was horribly uncomfortable.

Using the small fortune they had collected thus far, Dash and Helm bought up some property in the Valdera District to open up a simple, at the time, clothiers shop. The two of them had been making their own clothes for saints knew how long, so that was the easier of the many tasks they had to complete. The next step was to decipher what made women's fashion so god-awful to wear. That alone took several months, followed by the equally time consuming and laborious task of filling up their inventory. In the end, perhaps nine months after the fruitless looting of Kalitas House, the pair opened The Comfy Bosom. Their slogan, which was a huge hit, read "If a man wouldn't want to wear it, why should a woman?"

They were practically famous overnight. Within the first month of business they had made easily double what they had spent in getting the place open. It was miraculous. By year's end the pair had everything they wanted.

Helm had his much coveted fortune and countless women that were willing to walk through fire for him. And Dash? Well, Dash was happy enough not having to work in the mines any longer. But perhaps the saints saw fit to give him a little extra for his patience with his partner. He met an artist in the Aela district, a young woman small of stature and big of glasses that had, by some off chance, seen the races the previous year, saw the jockey with the pink hair, and liked it so much she dyed her own to match. Though she was human, Dash couldn't resist her. Eventually she was brought into the business as a designer. And you can imagine how happy that made Helm, considering how much the company's profit margin swelled because of her.

Many, many, many centuries later, the pair would pass on as all living beings must. But their work had gone so revered, appreciated by all the people of Arash, that they were inducted as the first Apostles of Saint Valdera, of _any_ saint. And statues of them were erected near their shop.

As for Kalitas House? Well, not much changed, actually. Tezzim's funeral had come and gone with little pomp and circumstance, per his brother's request. Considering the nature of his death, he didn't wish for there to be any unnecessary rumors getting about. He was laid to rest in the family mausoleum, on the left side of his father and mother.

After that, time went on as it did for all of us. Hassan and Kasa grew old as Haddai grew strong and wise in their image. He would succeed his father on the council after his passing, becoming just as respected.

It was never discovered the true nature around Miriam's death. But that could very well be due to the general lack of fucks given over the matter. She'd been such a bitch after all.

The Blue Door would remain closed for a long while, a year or two, before someone bought it at auction and reopened it, keeping it as a bar and inn. It would take months for the new owners to clean up all of the charring and blast debris from the previous proprietors' activities.

Raul would never go back to Arash in his long lifetime. When he left Archylte he traveled all over Gran Pulse, to lands unseen by anyone and taking all of the grandeur and mysteries of it with him to the grave. He died at the tender age of nine-hundred and fifty six. The eldest vampire that no one knew about.

Shilo would not change much at all. He would always have many wives and many children. And he would always be very proud of that. Typical lion.

Lyra, as her father had hoped, would become on of Kushta's greatest chiefs. Though her authority would often be challenged, the main reason being that her and Tamur were only ever able to rear sons. Seven of them. She would put down every act against her, and in her later years turned completely around the idea of men being lesser than women. She raised her sons to succeed her, and they did so with potency. While there were many protests to this action, they were never realized. And throughout her life, Lyra would often return to Archylte to see her father. This brought about the almost ritualistic event of the annual celebration taking place on the steppe, inevitably bringing the people there that much closer together. It was a beautiful thing.

Donovan and Beth? Well, they would be together for the rest of their lives, though they never had any children of their own and considered themselves too old to adopt. Yet Pickles seemed to have adopted them in time, the cat eventually spending every waking moment in their company. The couple would pass on in their sleep, in one another's arms, together.

Snow and Serah would have three more children, two more daughters and a son. Few couples happier than they were ever seen.

But, with all that being considered, let's take a moment and step back a ways. Let's have one last look at those who have been closest to us.

_(-)_

A year had passed since their return from Arash.

And here they sat in the grass of Aggra's Pasture, under the newly blinking stars and around the bonfire, basking in the glow of flames and memories.

Vanille watched contently from her husband's embrace, her eyes following her son's wobbling steps and idle play in the grass just at her feet. Though she could tell he was getting tired, Tavisen yawning at predictable intervals. By now his hair had taken on a darkened, almost black color, but the reddish orange could still be seen when light struck it, though now it lingered on the more red side.

Raising Tavisen, thus far, had not been easy, but it hadn't been a burden either. In the first few months of his life, the boy had trouble thriving. At least that's how Donovan put it. For the longest time the reason eluded them, and she found herself fearing for her son's life. Until, following a hunch, Raul convinced them to try putting blood in the bottle. Han gave them some from a freshly slaughtered sheep and they gave it a shot. It worked, and after just a few days the boy was back on track, hitting all of his developmental milestones on schedule.

All that aside, Tavisen (or Tav-Tav to his Aunt Fang) was just a regular kid. Who would someday grow into a very fine, and very large man. No kidding. Over seven feet tall. But that's much later.

Hope held her close, smiling gently as his chin rested on his wife's shoulder. While he too was so very proud of his son, so happy to have him in his life, he was smiling for another reason. He and Vanille made love for the first time just last night, and it still lingered in his mind. For an entire year he had waited patiently, mostly quiet, and it finally paid off.

Though it had not been easy. There had been several times throughout the past year when the pair had tried and failed, mainly for the reason that Vanille simply couldn't find the courage to follow through. Even if she initiated, which had happened, her strength would often fizzle out into the telling trembling of fear.

But then something strange happened. At least he thought it was strange at the time. Hope came home from a small job at the center to find Vanille sitting outside of their dwelling. She held both the letter Donovan had brought her and the Certificate of Liberty that she still hadn't signed. And she had a match in the other hand. She set them both ablaze and watched them burn until nothing was left. Later on he would understand what it was about, mostly because she told him so as they lay together in bed that night. It was like a cleansing ritual, a way for her to ultimately let go of that part of her life that had caused her so much pain. She didn't need it, and she couldn't move on unless it was gone. She did it for him, for her son, for herself. Somehow that changed everything, even the air in the dwelling was different. Then about a week later, last night that is, she came to him.

_Are you sure_? he recalled asking in his customarily gentle manner.

_I'm sure I want to try_. With a smile, was her answer.

And he took her to bed, finding it to be well worth the wait. Though it had been awkward at first. He found himself feeling a little smug, too. He'd given Vanille her first orgasm.

Believe it or not, she was thinking of the exact same thing at that very moment. That delirious, intense, surging pleasure that she hadn't known until last night. She had no idea such an act could feel good at all, and the surprise in learning of the contrary was staggering. Then again, Vanille realized, there was something decidedly dissimilar about what she and Hope did together in the darkness, compared to those...things she was forced to do as a slave.

Hope _loved_ her. That made all the difference. With love came compassion, and with that, desire. The rest is history.

In the years to come the two of them would only ever have one other child, another son they named Isaac.

Fang and Bard were there as well, and sat together near by, Bard struggling to stay awake as his head rested in his woman's lap. Their relationship hadn't much changed over the past year. They were still together, still in love, still having fun doing whatever they wanted. Who would want to change that?

Fang stared into the roiling flames, one hand on Bard's head, petting his ear, massaging the edge of it between her fingers. She'd been thinking and thinking, pondering something for days now, wondering what to do. It should've been simple, but in an odd way it wasn't. For a year she had been holding onto it, for reasons she couldn't really understand. Not until tonight. She kept it tucked away in her sari, always close. She fished it out, turning it the fingers of her other hand. It was the lock of hair she'd cut from that bastard's head as he lay dead in the manor corridor.

It was a war time tradition to take a piece of a fallen enemy. Though if it were to serve its purpose as a trophy or a totem of strength was never made clear. Yet Fang realized it wasn't for either of those things, not now. Before it had been a symbol of her triumph over that horrible man, over what he'd done, but then that pride faded into guarded shame, and the small token came to embody that. It was her guilt of what had happened and how she failed to stop it, and how she couldn't let it go. Maybe taking this had produced the exact opposite affect it was meant to; instead of instilling power, it dragged her spirit down.

Not anymore. With little more thought she tossed the article into the flames, watched it burn with a light, satisfied heart. If Vanille could expunge that horror from her life, so could she.

"Love ya, darlin'." Bard muttered sleepily.

"You too, nanny." and she smiled down at him, though he couldn't see it from behind closed lids.

Bard and Fang would be together for a long, long while. Eventually they would travel to where Glanwood had been, finding that some of the village had been rebuilt by other survivors of the flood. Though, while some of these satyrs had been his neighbors, even childhood friends, he would settle permanently in Archylte. Somehow he found himself better suited with the humes than his own people. Then again, these humes were special cases. Very special. And he would cherish them like blood kin. He and Fang would never have children of their own, but they were content all the same.

Han and Lightning were there too. How could they not be? This was their home, this small pasture, and the house they now shared. No, they hadn't married, not yet anyhow. Han had been considering the request though. But things were going so well, he was almost afraid to ask thinking something might go horrible wrong.

Their relationship was not a typical one, there were nuances to it that many other pairings would most likely find odd. They rarely spoke to each other, doubly so in private. Instead they seemed to communicate by expressions, the seemingly varied ways they looked at one another, and behind closed doors did so through specific touch. Seeing as Han had somewhat of a handicap when it came to expressing his feelings with words, as did Lightning, the two developed a silent language that only they could decipher. It was broken down to key words and phrases, simple definitions especially when they "spoke" through touch. But those conversations were mostly for the bedroom, as was almost all physical displays of affection.

"Hold me" was often translated as any embrace, particularly when they faced one another.

"I need you near me" was just holding hands. This could also mean "thank you" or some other show appreciation.

"Touch me" was taking hold of a hand and pressing it to the desired place. Simple enough.

"Make love to me" was unique to each of them. Han would put his hand on her hip and couple it was a particular setting of his eyes. Lightning would begin to trace the tattoo on his back with one finger, her forehead pressed into his shoulder blade.

"I love you" was different as well. Han would embrace her from behind, his arm around her with his palm over the place above her left breast where her heart was, and his head would rest against hers or atop her shoulder. Light would hold him, a hand on each cheek, and kiss him gently, smiling.

The past year had been so amazing, Lightning recalled as she sat behind Han, her arms around him. They had tried keeping their tryst a secret, but that was a colossal failure. Somehow everyone picked up on the subtle change in her mood, how much calmer she appeared, and their suspicions went wild. It was only a matter of time before they figured it out. Though by then she couldn't care less. She was happy, content even. She needed purpose, someone to need her, and Han was that someone. He was everything she never realized she wanted. He didn't try to dominate her as most men she had ever met did.

_I wasn't raised to tame a woman, but to fulfill her every want and need that she might be more free than she was without me._

And that suited her just fine. Mayhaps that was one of the things she loved about him. He didn't put her on a pedestal, but didn't antagonize her either. They helped each other. She could be herself around him, and that was a comfort she hadn't known before. And he had all the patience to put up with her shit. Light couldn't complain her situation.

Han let his hand rest over hers as they overlapped each other on his chest. This year had been the happiest he had ever known. He wouldn't trade it for the world. The harvest had come in well, all the lambs were born healthy, Gurthang sired a litter of pups, and Lightning still allowed him to share her bed. What more could he have possibly asked for?

He tiled his head back, looking up at her, their eyes meeting. At first he only smiled, Lightning reciprocating, then he took a deep breath.

"I love you." he whispered.

Her eyes widened a little, the set of her eyes showing curiosity, as if wondering whether or not she heard right.

"I know," he continued, though slowly, and still very quiet, "I know I'll only be able to hold you half as close as any other man...touch only half of you at a time...and offer only one helping hand. But...I can assure you that I will love with the heart of ten men. Now and always."

Her smile grew after a moment, and while she didn't speak, she responded in their secret way. Saying the same with but the touch of her hands to his face.

He was terrified, now that he had finally uttered the words that had lingered in him for more than a year. But it would come to pass that his jinx would not touch them. In fact it would never come around again, neither it nor the crows.

That night, after everyone had gone home and they retired to bed, after Lightning quietly began to trace the tattoo on his back and kiss his shoulder, they would make love and she would finally accept him. She was in his lap, arms and legs locked tight around him as she climaxed. And when he came, attempting to withdraw, she wouldn't allow it. She held fast to him, lips bruising with the force of a searing kiss. And they held one another this way, in the darkness, for a long while.

"Say it again." she breathed, her breath cool on his sweat dappled shoulder.

"I love you." there was no hesitation. "With all my soul, I love you."

"I love you, too." and she held his face in her hands to kiss him once more.

They would be happy together for many years, though they never came to have children. They were fine enough serving as aunt and uncle to the kids of their friends, and inevitably, great aunt and uncle to the generations to follow.

_(-)_

I don't always have a moral for my work. Typically I do it with no intention of having one, but in this case it seems to have occurred without my knowledge. As most things do. Surely everyone interprets different things from what they read, but mayhaps we can come together in this. This, in reality, was not a love story. Though love played a massive part. We've learned love can bloom in any place, no matter the damage or the difference. We've also learned that looks aren't everything, and that they can also be deceiving.

Perhaps the moral here is that...you are what you make of yourself. While, yes, sometimes we are forced into situations we cannot change, we can always change how we react to them. It's never too late to choose love over hate, courage over cowardice, or joy over grief. For it is our choices that define us.

So what will you choose?

Author's Note: That's it. Done, finished, over. After more than a year of late nights and binge-writing, illustration deadlines and research, "Blood Tithe" is hereby completed. I certainly hope all of you have enjoyed taking this journey with me, and I wish to extend my deepest gratitude to all of those who stuck around this long. Your words of praise and advice have been a massive, driving force behind me, keeping me going when times got crazy. See ya!


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